THE "PAST AND PRESENT" LIBRARY
De La More Press Editions Published by arrangement
with Messrs. Alexander Moring Ltd.
LIFEOFSIRTHOMAS
MORE, KNT.
BY HIS SON-IN-LAW
WILLIAM ROPER
WITH A FOREWORD BY
SIR JOSEPH WALTON, KNT.
JUDGE OF THE KING'S BENCH DIVISION
LONDON :
BURNS & GATES,
28 ORCHARD STREET, W
THE LIBRARY
RESURRECTION COLLEGE
" /
t 4. . le
IK )
I f 6)5"
^. JEROME'S COLfrCE
FOREWORD
By SIR JOSEPH WALTON, KNT.
Some books are valuable for what they teach us and
others we prize for what they are. William Roper's
book about Sir Thomas More may justly claim a place
amongst the select few which are no less rich in matter
than pleasing in form. In a style which may seem
involved sometimes, but has nevertheless all the charm
that belongs to our language in the vigour of its literary
youth, he tells a story of the deepest human interest,
and he tells of things which he himself had seen and
heard, and remembered.
No figure which passes across the stage of English
history has a more fascinating interest than that of
Thomas More ; especially to those of us who profess the
ancient faith for which he died, and now revere him
as Blessed. And his life is something more than in-
teresting. It appears to have been set up as an example
and guide to those who from his time onward were
to find their way through the difficulties of these latter
days of intellectual enterprise and self-confidence, and
of religious unrest.
In considering the true significance of the life and
death of More it is well to recall the circumstances of
the time in which he lived. The condition of the
Church at the beginning of the 1 6th century has been
much misrepresented, and there has been gross ex-
aggeration of the abuses in its religious life and
government. But what we ought to remember for
our present purpose is (in the words of one of the
most learned of living Catholic historians * ) that " it
may be admitted that the Church in life and discipline
was not all that could be desired" and "that in many
things there was need of reform in its truest sense."
This was appreciated by no one more truly or justly
or with a keener insight than by Sir Thomas More.
His delightful and never-failing sense of humour
must not be forgotten. And we know that the pupil of
Linacre and Grocyn, the close friend of Erasmus, the
hospitable patron of Holbein rejoiced in all that was
good and true and beautiful in the Renaissance of art
and learning. But he gave up all and life to him
offered every attraction and went cheerfully to death
rather than be in any way a party to the revolt against
the spiritual supremacy of the Pope.
This is the story which William Roper has to tell.
* Abbot Gasquet
ii.
Has it not, if we think of it, many lessons for all of us,
whether we be of those whose impulse it is to look with
confidence, and sometimes perhaps with too little pa-
tience, to the future, or of those whose nature it is to
cling piously to the past and to resist perhaps even that
inevitable movement by which the old order is ever
changing giving place to the new ? Sir Thomas More
teaches us always, and in all events, patience and good
temper and at the same time the strictest and most
perfect loyalty to faith and conscience.
in.
PREFACE
The First Edition
The Mitrour of Vertue in Worldly Greatnes, or
The Life of Sir Thomas More, Knight, sometime
Lord Chancellor of England, was first imprinted in
the year 1626, at Paris, according to the title-page,
though it has been suggested, without any definite
proof, that the book was not really printed abroad.
The author of the Life, William Roper, Sir
Thomas More's son-in-law, died in 1578 ; he had
possibly not completed his book at the end of Queen
Mary's reign. It is noteworthy that in 1557 Sir
Thomas More's English works were first collected
together and published, at the Queen's command,
under the editorship of More's nephew, Justice
Rastell, the elder son of the printer, John Rastell. In
1555 and 1556 the Latin works were published
ix
at Louvain. William Roper's precious memoir,
described as A Brief History of the Life, Arraign-
ment, and Death of that Mirrour of all True Honour
and Vertue, Syr Thomas More, must have circulated
in MS. for well-nigh seventy years, until at
length " T. P." gave it to the press. Unfortunately
the text he found was very faulty. " T. P." has not
yet been identified, but may be Thomas Plowden.
It is an interesting coincidence that a writer with the
same initials, Thomas Paynell, the learned translator,
added a table of contents to the afore-mentioned
edition of More's English works. But this Thomas
Paynell died in 1567, and "T. P." was the con-
temporary of Lady Elizabeth, Countess of Banbury,
the second wife of William Knollys, upon whom
Charles I conferred the Earldom of Banbury in
August, 1626.
Other Biographies
Before the Life appeared in print the MS.
version had already been utilised by various biogra-
phers of Sir Thomas More, notably by Stapleton,
whose Tres Thoma appeared at Antwerp in
1588 ; by Nicholas Harpsfield, whose work is pre-
served in Harleian MS. 6253 ; and by Cresacre
x
More, his great-grandson, whose Life and Death
of Sir Thomas More, long erroneously assigned to
his brother Thomas, was published without date or
place, with a dedication to Queen Henrietta Maria ;
it was probably printed in Paris or Louvain in 1631.
Besides these there are other sixteenth-century Lives
of More in MS. One of these, written in 1599, is
printed in Wordsworth's Ecclesiastical Biography.
Editions of Roper's Life
Thomas Hearne, the famous antiquary, reprinted
William Roper's book in the year 1716, but his text
is almost as Eiulty as that of the editlo princeps, though
he had better MS. materials at his disposal ; he added
various readings and emendations at the end of his
volume. In 1729 the Rev. John Lewis, the bio-
grapher of Wiclif and Caxton, edited the Life from
a fairly good MS. lent him by Mr. Thomas Beake,
of Stourmouth, in Kent. In 1817 a new edition
appeared, based on those of Hearne and Lewis, edited
by S. W. Singer, the editor of Shakespeare. A much
improved text was issued by him in 1822, amended
by the collation of two MS. copies, both of these,
according to his statement, in the handwriting of
Roper's age, one of them belonging to Sir William
xi
Strickland, Bart., of Boynton, in Yorkshire. It is an
interesting fact that an earlier kinsman of the same
name married one of the last female descendants of
Margaret, Roper's wife.
The Present Edition
For the present issue Singer's modernised text has
been utilised ; here and there some slight changes,
notably in punctuation, have been made. Probably
now, for the first time, More's verses, written with a
coal after Master Secretary's visit to him in the
Tower, are correctly given. In the four MS. copies
of Roper's Life in the British Museum, namely,
Harleian MSS. 6166, 6254, 6362, 7030, and in the
printed copies, the versions of the lines make little
sense. In Rastell's edition of Moris English Works
they are more correctly printed under the title of
" Lewys, the Lost Lover." Together with the record
left us by Sir Thomas More's son-in-law the bio-
graphical letters of his friend Erasmus should be read
by way of commentary, and also More's own letters,
more especially those to his favourite daughter Meg,
and those from her to him : these famous letters be-
tween father and daughter are fittingly included in
this volume.
xii
Holbein's Portraits
To these literary documents should be added the
portraits of More and his family, by his friend Hans
Holbein, who came to England in 1526, possibly as
More's guest at Chelsea, where he stayed about two
years. The famous drawing among the Holbein
treasures in the Royal Library at Windsor Castle, the
basis of the engraving on the title-page of this volume,
may be safely assigned to the year 1527.
" Thy painter," wrote More to Erasmus, who had
introduced him, " is a wonderful artist, but I fear he
will not find England as productive as he hopes,
although I will do my best, as far as I am concerned,
that he should not find it altogether barren."
Holbein's sketch for his great picture of the family
was seen by Erasmus in 1529. " Methought I saw
shining through this beautiful household a soul even
more beautiful." The artist had meanwhile returned
to Basel, where what is generally thought to be the
most authentic sketch is still preserved. There are
three similar sketches, copies varying in details, in the
possession of English families. The finished picture,
if it ever existed, cannot be traced.
The life-story of Sir Thomas More has been a
fruitful source of literary inspiration for prose, verse,
and drama, from 1556, when Ellis Heywood wrote,
in Florence, his dialogue // Moro a fanciful
picture of More's relationship with the learned men
of his time to the present day. Among modern
tributes nothing exceeds in charm Miss Manning's
Household of Sir Thomas More, the imaginary
(though not altogether fictitious) diary of the noblest
and most heroic of daughters, deservedly immortal-
ised among " Fair Women."
" Morn broadened on the borders of the dark
Ere I saw her, who clasped in her last trance
Her murdered father's head."
xiv
LIST OF CONTENTS
PAGK.
DEDICATORT LETTER i
INTRODUCTION TO ORIGINAL EDITION . 3
LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE .... 5
LETTERS OF SIR THOMAS MORE TO AND
FROM MARGARET ROPER
LETTER I. Sir Thomas More to Margaret Roper, on
his first being made prisoner in the Tower . . 105
LETTER II. Lady Alice Alington to Margaret Roper
concerning her meeting with my Lord Chancellor 113
LETTER III. Sir Thomas More, in Margaret Roper's
name (or Margaret Roper) to Lady Alice Alington 117
LETTER IV. Sir Thomas More to Margaret Roper
(being his first letter written with a coal) . . 151
LETTER V. Sir Thomas More to Margaret Roper,
concerning the Oath of Succession . . -153
LETTER VI. Margaret Roper's reply to Sir Thomas
More's Letter (No. V.) 157
XV
PAGE
LETTERS OF SIR THOMAS MORE TO AND
FROM MARGARET ROPER, continued
LETTER VII. Sir Thomas More to Margaret Roper 161
LETTER VIII. Sir Thomas More to Margaret Roper 167
LETTER IX. Sir Thomas More's last letter, addressed
to Margaret Roper (being his second letter written
with a coal) . . . . . . .175
EPITAPHS 179
NOTES . . . 183
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 189
INDEX 191
XVI
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE
LADY ELIZABETH COUNTESS
OF BANBURY, &c.
RIGHT HONOURABLE,
It was my good happe not longe since, in a
Friends House, to light upon a briefe History of the
Life, Arraignement, and Death of that Mirrour of all
true Honour, and Vertue, Syr Thomas More, who
by his Wisdome, Learning, and Santity, hath eter-
nized his Name, Countrey, and Profession, through-
out the Christian World, with immortal Glory, and
Renowne.
Finding, by perusal thereof, the same replenished
with incomparable Treasures, of no lesse Worthy,
and most Christian Factes, then of Wise, and Reli-
gious Sentences Apophthegmes, and Sayings ; 1
deemed it not only an errour to permit so great a
light to ly buried, as it were, within the walls of one
priuate Family : but also iudged it worthy the Presse,
euen of a golden Character (if it were to be had) to
the end, the whole World might receave comfort and
profit by reading the same.
Having made this Resolution, a Difficultie pre-
sented itselfe, to my Thoughts, under whose Shadow,
or Patronage I might best shelter the Worke : unto
which strife, Your LADISHIP occurring to my cogita-
tions, put an End, with the BEAMS of your WORTH,
AND HONOUR ; so dazeling my Eyes, as I could dis-
cerne none other more Fit, or Worthy to imbrace,
and protect so Glorious and memorable Example.
Of whose GOODNES I am so confident that without
further debate, I judge, this Enterchange of Freend-
shippe may worthily be made betweene the SAINT
and You. You (Madame) shal Patronize his HONOUR
heere on Earth ; and He shall become a Patrone and
Intercessour for You in Heaven.
By him, that am your Ladiships
professed Seruant,
T. P.
/7 ORASMUCH as 5/r Thomas More, Knight, some-
* time Lord Chancellor of England, a man of singular
virtue and of a clear unspotted conscience (as witnesseth
Erasmus), more pure and white than the whitest snow, and
of such an angelical wit, as England, he saith, never had
the like before, nor ever shall again : universally, as well
in the laws of the realm (a study in effect able to occupy
the whole life of a man) as in all other sciences, right well
studied, was in his days accounted a man worthy perpetual
famous memory /, William Roper (though most un-
worthy], his son-in-law by marriage of his eldest daughter,
knowing no one man that of him and of his doings under-
stood so much as myself if or that I was continually resident
in his house by the space of sixteen yean and more
thought it therefore my part to set forth such matters
touching his life as I could at this present call to remem-
brance, among which things very many notable, not meet
to have been forgotten, through negligence and long con-
3
tinuance of time are slipped out of my mind. Tet to the
Intent that the same should not all utterly perish, I have
at the desire of divers worshipful friends of mine, though
very far from the grace and worthiness of him, neverthe-
less, as far forth as my mean wit, memory and knowledge
would serve me declared so much thereof as in my poor
judgment seemed worthy to be remembered.
THIS Sir Thomas More after he had been
brought up in the Latin tongue at St.
Anthony's in London, was by his father's procure-
ment received into the house of the right reverend,
wise and learned prelate Cardinal Morton, where
though he was young of years, yet would he at
Christmastide suddenly sometimes step in among the
players, and never studying for the matter make a
part of his own there presently among them, which
made the lookers on more sport than all the players
beside. In whose wit and towardness the Cardinal
much delighting, would often say of him unto the
nobles that divers times dined with him, "This
child here waiting at the table, whosoever shall live
to see it, will prove a marvellous man." Where-
upon for his better furtherance in learning he placed
him at Oxford, where when he was both in the
Greek and Latin tongues sufficiently instructed, he
was then, for the study of the law of the Realm, put
5
to an Inn of Chancery, called New Inn : where for
his time he very well prospered, and from thence
was admitted to Lincoln's Inn, with very small allow-
ance, continuing there his study until he was made
and accounted a worthy utter Barrister. After this,
to his great commendations, he read for a good space
a public lecture of St. Augustine De Civltate Dei in
the church of St. Lawrence in the old Jewry, where-
unto there resorted Doctor Grocyn, an excellent
cunning man, and all the chief learned of the city
of London. Then was he made reader of Furnival's
Inn, so remaining by the space of three years and
more. After which time he gave himself to devotion
and prayer in the Charterhouse of London, religiously
living there without vow about four years, until he
resorted to the house of one Master Coke, a gentle-
man of Essex, that had oft invited him thither,
having three daughters whose honest conversation
and virtuous education provoked him there specially
to set his affection. And albeit his mind most
served him to the second daughter, for that he
thought her the fairest and best favoured, yet when
he considered that it would be both great grief and
some shame also to the eldest to see her younger
sister preferred before her in marriage, he then, of a
certain pity, framed his fancy toward her, and soon
6
after married her, never the more discontinuing his
study of the law at Lincoln's Inn, but applying still
the same until he was called to the Bench, and had
read there twice, which is as often as any Judge of
the law doth ordinarily read. Before which time he
had placed himself and his wife at Bucklersbury in
London, where he had by her three daughters and
one son, in virtue and learning brought up from their
youth, whom he would often exhort to take virtue
and learning for their meat, and play for their sauce.
Who, ere ever he had been reader in Court, was in
the latter time of King Henry the Seventh made a
Burgess of the Parliament, wherein was demanded by
the king (as I have heard reported) about three
fifteenths for the marriage of his eldest daughter, that
then should be the Scottish Queen. At the last
debating whereof he made such arguments and reasons
there against, that the king's demands were thereby
clean overthrown ; so that one of the king's privy
chamber, named Master Tyler, being present thereat,
brought word to the king out of the Parliament
house, that a beardless boy had disappointed all his
purpose. Whereupon the king, conceiving great
indignation towards him, could not be satisfied until
he had some way revenged it. And forasmuch as he
nothing having, nothing could lose, his grace devised
7
a causeless quarrel against his father, keeping him in
the Tower till he had made him pay to him a hun-
dred pounds fine/ Shortly hereupon it fortuned
that this Sir Thomas More coming in a suit to
Doctor Fox, Bishop of Winchester, one of the king's
privy council, the bishop called him aside, and pre-
tending great favour towards him, promised that if
he would be ruled by him, he would not fail into
the king's favour again to restore him, meaning, as it
was afterwards conjectured, to cause him thereby to
confess his offence against the king, whereby his
highness might with the better colour have occasion
to revenge his displeasure against him. But when
he came from the bishop, he fell in communication
with one Master Whitforde, his familiar friend, then
chaplain to that bishop, and afterward a father of
Sion, and showed him what the bishop had said to
him, desiring to have his advice therein ; who, for
the passion of God, prayed him in no wise to follow
his counsel, for "my lord, my master," quoth he, " to
serve the king's turn will not stick to agree to his
own father's death." So Sir Thomas More returned
to the bishop no more, and had not the king soon
after died, he was determined to have gone over sea,
thinking that being in the king's indignation he could
not live in England without great danger. After
8
this he was made one of the under-sheriffs of London,
by which office and his learning together (as I have
heard him say) he gained without grief not so little
as four hundred pounds by the year : sith there was
at that time in none of the prince's courts of the
laws of this realm any matter of importance in con-
troversy wherein he was not with the one party of
counsel. Of whom, for his learning, wisdom, know-
ledge and experience, men had such estimation, that
before he came into the service of King Henry the
Eighth, at the suit and instance of the English
merchants, he was, by the king's consent, made twice
ambassador in certain great causes between them and
the merchants of the Stilliard. Whose wise and dis-
creet dealing therein, to his high commendation,
coming to the king's understanding, provoked his
highness to cause Cardinal Wolsey, then Lord Chan-
cellor, to procure him to his service. And albeit the
cardinal, according to the king's request, earnestly
travailed with him therefore, among many other his
persuasions alleging unto him, how dear his service
must needs be unto his majesty, which could not
with his honour with less than he should yearly lose
thereby, seem to recompense him. Yet he, loath to
change his estate, made such means unto the king,
by the cardinal, to the contrary, that his grace for
9
that time was well satisfied. Now happened there,
after this, a great ship of his, that was then Pope, to
arrive at Southampton, which the king claiming for
a forfeiture, the Pope's ambassador, by suit unto his
grace, obtained that he might for his master the
Pope have counsel learned in the laws of this realm ;
and the matter in his own presence (being himself a
singular civilian), in some public place to be openly
heard and discussed. At which time there could
none of our law be found so meet to be of counsel
with this ambassador as Sir Thomas More, who could
report to the ambassador in Latin all the reasons and
arguments by the learned counsel on both sides
alleged. Upon this the counsellors on either part, in
presence of the Lord Chancellor and other the judges
in the Star Chamber had audience accordingly.
Where Sir Thomas More not only declared to the
ambassador the whole effect of all their opinions,
but also in defence on the Pope's side argued so
learnedly himself, that both was the aforesaid for-
feiture restored to the Pope, and himself, among all
the hearers, for his upright and commendable de-
meanour therein, so greatly renowned, that for no
entreaty would the king from henceforth be induced
any longer to forbear his service. At whose first
entry thereunto he made him Master of the Requests,
10
having then no better room void, and, within a month
after, Knight, and one of his privy council, f And so
from time to time was he by the king advanced,
continuing in his singular favour and trusty service
twenty years and above. /A good part thereof used
the king upon holy days when he had done his own
devotions, to send for him into his traverse, and there
sometimes in matters of astronomy, geometry, divinity,
and such other faculties, and sometimes of his worldly
affairs to sit and confer with him. And otherwhiles,
in the night would he have him up into the leads,
there to consider with him the diversities, courses,
motions, and operations of the stars and planets. / And
because he was of a pleasant disposition, it pleased the
king and queen, after the council had supped, at the
time of their supper, for their pleasure commonly to
call for him to be merry with them.' When he per-
ceived them so much in his talk to delight, that he
could not once in a month get leave to go home to
his wife and his children (whose company he most
desired), and to be absent from the court two days
together but that he should be thither sent for again :
he much misliking this restraint of his liberty, began
thereupon somewhat to dissemble his nature, and so,
by little and little, from his former mirth to disuse
himself, that he was of them from henceforth at such
1 1
seasons no more so ordinarily sent for.| Then died
one Master Weston treasurer of the Exchequer, whose
office, after his death, the king of his own offer,
without any asking, freely gave unto Sir Thomas
More. In the fourteenth year of his grace's reign
there was a parliament holden, whereof Sir Thomas
More was chosen speaker. Who, being very loth to
take this room upon him, made an oration, not now
extant, to the king's highness, for his discharge there-
of. Whereunto when the king would not consent,
he spoke unto his grace in form following :
12
SITH, I perceive, most redoubted sovereign, that
it standeth not with your pleasure to reform
this election, and cause it to be changed, but have, by
the mouth of the most reverend Father in God, the
Legate, your highness* Chancellor, thereunto given
your most royal assent, and have of your benignity
determined, far above that I may bear, to enable me,
and for this office to repute me meet ; rather than
you should seem to impute unto your Commons, that
they had unmeetly chosen : I am_ therefor, and
always shall be ready, obediently to conform myself
to the accomplishment of your highness' pleasure and
commandment, in most humble wise beseeching
your most noble Majesty, that I may, with your grace's
favour, before I farther enter there into, make my
humble intercession unto your highness for two lowly
petitions : the one privately concerning myself, the
other the whole assembly of your Commons' House.
For myself, most gracious sovereign, that if it mishap
13
me in anything hereafter that is on the behalf of
your Commons, in your high presence to be declared,
to mistake my message, and in lack of good utterance,
by my mis-rehearsal, to pervert or impair their pru-
dent instructions, that it may then like your most
noble majesty, of your abundant grace, with the eye
of your wonted pity to pardon my simpleness, giving
me leave to repair again unto the Commons' House,
and there to confer with them, and to take their sub-
stantial advice what things and in what wise I shall
on their behalf utter and speak before your noble
grace, to the intent their prudent devices and affairs
be not by my simpleness and folly hindered or im-
paired. Which thing, if it should so happen, as it
were well likely to mishap in me, if your grace's
benignity relieved not my oversight, it could not fail
to be during my life a perpetual grudge and heaviness
to my heart. The help and remedy whereof in
manner aforesaid remembered, is (most gracious
sovereign) my first lowly suit and humble petition
unto your noble grace. Mine other humble request,
most excellent prince, is this. Forasmuch as there
be of your Commons, here by your high command-
ment assembled for your parliament, a great number,
which are after the accustomed manner appointed,
in the Commons 1 House to treat and advise of the
"4
common affairs among themselves apart : and albeit,
most dear liege lord, that according to your prudent
advice, by your honourable writs everywhere declared,
there hath been as due diligence used in sending up to
your highness* Court of Parliament the most discreet
persons out of every quarter that men could esteem
meet thereto. Whereby it is not to be doubted but
that there is a very substantial assembly of right wise
meet and politique persons. Yet, most victorious
prince, sith, among so many wise men, neither is
every man wise alike, nor, among so many men alike
well witted, every man alike well spoken, and it often
happeth that likewise as much folly is uttered with
painted polished speech, so, many, boisterous and rude
in language, see deep indeed, and give right sub-
stantial counsel ; and sith also in matters of great
importance the mind is so often occupied in the
matter, that a man rather studieth what to say, than
how ; by reason whereof the wisest man and best
spoken in a whole country fortuneth while his mind
is fervent in the matter, somewhat to speak in such
wise as he would afterward wish to have been uttered
otherwise, and yet no worse will had he when he
spake it, than he hath when he would so gladly
change it. Therefore, most gracious sovereign, con-
sidering that, in all your high Court of Parliament, is
nothing treated but matter of weight and importance
concerning your realm and your own royal estate, it
could not fail to let and put to silence from the
giving of their advice and counsel many of your
discreet Commons, to the great hindrance of the
1 common affairs, except that every one of your Com-
mons were utterly discharged of all doubt and fear
! how any thing, that it should happen them to speak,
should happen of your highness to be taken. And
in this point, though your well known and proved
benignity putteth every man in good hope, yet such
is the weight of the matter, such is the reverend
dread that the timorous hearts of your natural sub-
jects conceive towards your highness, our most re-
doubted king and undoubted sovereign, that they
cannot, in this point, find themselves satisfied, except
your gracious bounty therein declared put away the
scruple of their timorous minds, and animate and
encourage them and put them out of doubt. It may
therefore like your most abundant grace, our most
benign and godly king, to give to all your Commons,
here assembled, your most gracious license and pardon,
freely, without doubt of your dreadful displeasure,
every man to discharge his conscience, and boldly, in
every thing incident among us, to declare his advice ;
and, whatsoever happeneth any man to say, that it
16
may like your noble majesty of your inestimable
goodness to take all in good part, interpreting every
man's words, how uncunningly soever they be
couched, to proceed yet of good zeal towards the
profit of your realm and honour of your royal person,
the prosperous estate and perservation whereof, most
excellent sovereign, is the thing which we all, your
humble loving subjects, according to the most
bounden duty of our natural allegiance, most highly
desire and pray for.
AT this Parliament Cardinal Wolsey found him-
self much grieved with the burgesses thereof,
for that nothing was so soon done or spoken therein
but that it was immediately blown abroad in every
alehouse. It fortuned at that Parliament a very
great subsidy to be demanded, which the Cardinal
fearing would not pass the Commons' House deter-
mined for the furtherance thereof to be there present
himself. Before whose coming, after long debating
there, whether it were better but with a few of his
lords, as the most opinion of the house was, or with
his whole train royally, to receive him there amongst
them : " Masters," quoth Sir Thomas More, " foras-
much as my Lord Cardinal lately, ye wot well, laid
to our charge the lightness of our tongues for things
uttered out of this house, it shall not in my mind be
amiss to receive him with all his pomp, with his
maces, his pillars, his poleaxes, his crosses, his hat and
the great seal too ; to the intent that if he find the
18
like fault with us hereafter, we may be the bolder
from ourselves to lay the blame on those that his
grace bringeth hither with him." Whereunto the
house wholly agreeing, he was received accordingly.
Where after he had in a solemn oration by many
reasons proved how necessary it was the demand
there moved to be granted, and further showed that
less would not serve to maintain the prince's purpose,
he seeing the company sitting still silent and there-
unto nothing answering, and contrary to his expecta-
tions showing in themselves towards his request no
towardness of inclination, said unto them, " Masters,
you have many wise and learned men amongst you,
and sith I am from the king's own person sent hither
unto you for the preservation of yourselves and all the
realm, I think it meet you give me some reasonable
answer." Whereat every man holding his peace,
then began he to speak to one Master Marney, after-
ward Lord Marney, "How say you," quoth he,
" Master Marney ? " who making him no answer
neither, he severally asked the same question of divers
others accounted the wisest of the company : to
whom, when none of them all would give so much as
one word, being agreed before, as the custom was, to
answer by their Speaker, " Masters," quoth the
Cardinal, " unless it be the manner of your house, as
of likelihood it is, by the mouth of your Speaker,
whom you have chosen for trusty and wise (as indeed
he is), in such cases to utter your minds, here is
without doubt a marvellous obstinate silence," and
thereupon he required answer of Master Speaker.
Who first reverently on his knees excusing the silence
of the house, abashed at the presence of so noble a
personage, able to amaze the wisest and best learned
in the realm, and after by many probable arguments
proving that for them to make answer was neither
expedient nor agreeable with the ancient liberty of
the house ; in conclusion for himself showed that
though they had all with their voices trusted him,
yet except every one of them could put into his one
head all their several wits, he alone in so weighty a
f matter was unmeet to make his grace answer. Where-
upon the cardinal, displeased with Sir Thomas More,
that had not in this parliament in all things satisfied
his desire, suddenly arose and departed. And after
the parliament ended, in his gallery at Whitehall in
Westminster, he uttered unto him all his griefs,
saying : " Would to God you had been at Rome,
Master More, when I made you Speaker." " Your
grace not offended, so would I too, my lord," quoth
Sir Thomas More. And to wind such quarrels out
of the cardinal's head, he began to talk of the gallery,
20
saying, " I like this gallery of yours, my lord, much
better than your gallery at Hampton Court."
Wherewith so wisely broke he off the cardinal's dis-
pleasant talk, that the cardinal at that present, as it
seemed, wist not what more say to him ; but, for
the reyengement of his displeasure, counselled the
king to send him ambassador to Spain, commending
to his highness his wisdom, learning and meetness for
that voyage. And, the difficulty of the cause con-
sidered, none was there, he said, so well able to serve
his grace therein. Which when the king had broken
to Sir Thomas More, and that he had declared unto
his grace how unfit a journey it was for him, the
nature of the country, the disposition of his com-
plexion so disagreeing together, that he should never
be able to do his grace acceptable service there,
knowing right well that if his grace sent him thither
he should send him to his grave ; but showing him-
self nevertheless ready according to his duty, or were
it with the loss of his life, to fulfill his grace's pleasure
in that behalf. The king, allowing well his answer,
said unto him : " It is not our pleasure, Master More,
to do you hurt, but to do you good we would be
glad : we therefore for this purpose will devise upon
some other, and employ your service otherwise." And
such entire favour did the king bear him, that he
21
made him Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster upon
the death of Sir Richard Wingfield who had that
office before. And for the pleasure he took in his
company would his grace suddenly sometimes come
home to his house at Chelsea to be merry with him,
whither, on a time, unlocked for, he came to dinner,
and after dinner, in a fair garden of his, walked with
him by the space of an hour, holding his arm about
his neck. As soon as his grace was gone, I rejoicing
thereat, said to Sir Thomas More, how happy he was
whom the king had so familiarly entertained, as I never
had seen him do to any before, except Cardinal
Wolsey, whom I saw his grace walk once with arm
in arm. " I thank our Lord, son," quoth he, " I find
his grace my very good lord indeed, and I believe he
doth as singularly favour me, as any subject within
this realm : howbeit, son Roper, I may tell thee, I
have no cause to be proud thereof, for if my head
would win him a castle in France (for then there was
war between us), it should not fail to go."
22
THIS Sir Thomas More, among all other his
virtues, was of such meekness, that if it had
fortuned him with any learned men resorting to him
from Oxford, Cambridge, or elsewhere (as there did
divers, some for desire of his acquaintance, some for
the famous report of his wisdom and learning, some
for suits of the Universities), to have entered into
argument (wherein few were comparable to him) and
so far to have discoursed with them therein, that he
might perceive they could not without some incon-
venience hold out much further disputation against
him ; then, lest he should discomfort them (as one
that sought not his own glory, but rather would seem
conquered than to discourage students in their studies,
ever showing himself more desirous to learn than to
teach), would he by some witty device courteously
break off into some other matter and give over. Of
whom, for his wisdom and learning, had the king
such an opinion, that at such time as he attended
23
upon his highness, taking his progress either to
Oxford or Cambridge, where he was received with
very eloquent orations, his grace would always assign
him (as one that was most prompt and ready therein)
extempore to make answer thereunto. Whose man-
ner was, whensoever he had occasion, either here or
beyond the sea, to be in any University, not only to
be present at the readings and disputations there
commonly used, but also learnedly to dispute among
them himself. Who being chancellor of the duchy
was made ambassador twice, joined in commission
with Cardinal Wolsey ; once to the Emperor Charles
into Flanders, the other time to the French king into
France. Not long after this, the Water-bailiff of
London, sometime his servant, hearing, where he
had been at dinner, certain merchants liberally to
rail against his old master, waxed so discontented
therewith that he hastily came to him and told him
what he had heard, " and were I, Sir," quoth he, " in
such favour and authority with my prince as you are,
such men surely should not be suffered so villainously
and falsely to misreport and slander me. Wherefore
I would wish you to call them before you, and, to
their shame, for their lewd malice to punish them."
Who, smiling upon him said, " why, Master Water-
bailiff, would you have me punish them by whom I
24
receive more benefit than by all you that be my
friends ? Let them a God's name speak as lewdly as
they list of me, and shoot never so many arrows at
me as long as they do not hit me, what am I the
worse ? But if they should once hit me, then would
it indeed not a little trouble me ; howbeit I trust by
God's help there shall none of them all once be able
to touch me. I have more cause, I assure thee,
Master Water-bailiff, to pity them than to be angry
with them." Such fruitful communication had he
ofttimes with his familiar friends. So on a time
walking with me along the Thames' side at Chelsea,
in talking of other things he said unto me, " Now,
would to our Lord, son Roper, upon condition that
three things were well established in Christendom, I
were put in a sack and here presently cast into the
Thames." " What great things be those, Sir," quoth
I, " that should move you so to wish ?" " Wouldst
thou know, son Roper, what they be," quoth he ?
" Yea marry with a good will, Sir, if it please you,"
quoth I. " In faith, son, they be these," said he,
" the first is, that whereas the most part of Christian
princes be at mortal war, they were all at universal
peace. The second, that where the church of Christ
is at this present sore afflicted with many errors and
heresies, it were well settled in perfect uniformity of
religion. The third, that where the matter of the
king's marriage is now come in question, it were to
the glory of God and quietness of all parties brought
to a good conclusion." Whereby as I could gather,
he judged that otherwise it would be a disturbance to
a great part of Christendom. Thus did it, by his
doings throughout the whole course of his life, appear,
that all his travail and pains, without respect of
earthly commodities, either to himself, or any of his,
were only upon the service of God, the prince, and
the realm, wholly bestowed and employed ; whom I
heard in his latter time to say that he never asked of
the king for himself the value of one penny.
26
AS Sir Thomas More's custom was daily (if he
were at home), besides his private prayers with
his children, to say the Seven Psalms, the Litany,
and the Suffrages following, so was his guise nightly
before he went to bed with his wife, children, and
household, to go to his chapel, and there on his knees
ordinarily to say certain psalms and collects with
them. And because he was desirous for godly pur-
poses, sometimes to be solitary and sequester himself
from worldly company, a good distance from his
mansion-house, builded he a place called the New
Building, wherein there was a chapel, a library, and
a gallery, in which, as his use was on other days to
occupy himself in prayer and study there together, so
on the Fridays used he continually to be there from
morning till evening, spending his time only in
devout prayers and spiritual exercises. And to pro-
voke his wife and children to the desire of heavenly
things, he would sometimes use these words unto
them. " It is now no mastery for you children to
go to heaven, for every body giveth you good counsel,
every body giveth you good example. You see virtue
rewarded and vice punished, so that you are carried
up to heaven even by the chins. But if you live in
the time that no man will give you good counsel, no
man will give you good example, when you shall see
virtue punished and vice rewarded, if you will then
stand fast and firmly stick to God upon pain of life,
though you be but half good, God will allow you for
whole good." If his wife or any of his children had
been diseased or troubled, he would say unto them,
may not look at our pleasures to go to heaven
in featherbeds ; it is not the way, for our Lord Him-
self went thither with great pain, and by many
tribulations, which was the path wherein He walked
thither, and the servant may not look to be in better
case than his Master. *n And as he would in this
sort persuade them to take their troubles patiently, so
would he in like sort teach them to withstand the
devil and his temptations valiantly, saying, "whoso-
ever will mark the devil and his temptations shall find
him therein much like to an ape, who, not well
looked to, will be busy and bold to do shrewd turns,
and contrariwise being spied will suddenly leap back
and adventure no farther. So the devil finding a
man idle, slothful, and without resistance, ready to
28
receive his temptations, waxeth so hardy that he will
not fail still to continue with him until to his purpose
he hath thoroughly brought him. But on the other
side, if he see a man with diligence persevere to
prevent and withstand his temptations, he waxeth
so weary that in conclusion he utterly forsaketh him.
For as the devil of disposition is a spirit of so high a
pride that he cannot abide to be mocked, so is he of
nature so envious that he feareth any more to assault
him, lest he should thereby not only catch a foul fall
himself, but also minister to the man more matter of
merit." Thus delighted he evermore not only in
virtuous exercises to be occupied by himself, but also
to exhort his wife, children, and household to em-
brace the same and follow it. To whom for his
notable virtue and godliness God showed as it seemed
a manifest miraculous token of His special favour
towards him. At such time as my wife (as many
other that year were) was sick of the sweating sick-
ness ; who lying in so great extremity of that disease
as by no invention or devices that physicians in such
cases commonly use (of whom she had divers both
expert, wise, and well learned, then continually at-
tendant about her) could she be kept from sleep, so
that both the physicians and all other there present
despaired of her recovery and gave her over ; her
29
father, as he that most entirely tendered her, being in
no small heaviness for her, by prayer at God's hand
sought to get her remedy. Whereupon going up,
after his usual manner, into his aforesaid New Building
there in his chapel on his knees with tears most
devoutly besought Almighty God that it would like
His goodness, unto whom nothing was impossible, if
it were His blessed will, at his mediation, to vouch-
safe graciously to hear his humble petition. Where
incontinent came into his mind that a glister should
be the only way to help her. Which when he told
the physicians, they by and by confessed that if there
were any hope of health that that was the very best
help indeed ; much marvelling of themselves that
they had not before remembered it. Then was it
immediately administered to her sleeping, which she
could by no means have been brought unto waking.
And albeit, after she was thereby thoroughly awaked,
God's marks (an evident undoubted token of death)
plainly appeared upon her, yet she, contrary to all
their expectations, was, as it was thought, by her
father's most fervent prayers miraculously recovered,
and at length again to perfect health restored ; whom,
if it had pleased God at that time to have taken to
His mercy, her father said he would never have
meddled with worldly matters more.
30
NOW while Sir Thomas More was chancellor of
the duchy, the see of Rome chanced to be
void, which was cause of much trouble. For Cardinal
Wolsey, a man very ambitious, and desirous (as good
; hope and likelihood he had) to aspire to that dignity,
perceiving himself of his expectation disappointed, by
means of the Emperor Charles so highly commending
one Cardinal Adrian, sometime his schoolmaster, to
the cardinals of Rome in the time of their election
for his virtue and worthiness, that thereupon he was
chosen pope ; who from Spain, where he was then
resident, coming on foot to Rome before his entry
into the city did put off his hose and shoes, and bare-
footed and barelegged passed through the streets
towards his palace with such humbleness that all the
people had him in great reverence ; Cardinal Wolsey,
I say, waxed so wood therewith, that he studied to
invent all ways of revengement of his grief against the
emperor ; which as it was the beginning of a lament-
able tragedy, so some part thereof, as not impertinent
to my present purpose, I reckoned requisite here to
put in remembrance. This cardinal therefore, not
ignorant of the king's inconstant and mutable disposi-
tion, soon inclined to withdraw his devotion from his
most noble, virtuous, and lawful wife Queen Katherine,
aunt to the emperor, upon every light occasion ; and
upon other, to her in nobility, wisdom, virtue, favour,
and beauty far incomparable, to fix his affection :
meaning to make this his so light disposition an
instrument to bring about his ungodly intent, devised
to allure the king (then already contrary to his mind
nothing less looking for than falling in love with the
Lady Anne Bullen) to cast fantasy unto one of the
French king's sisters. Which thing (because of the
enmity and war that was at that time between the
French king and the emperor, whom, for the cause
before remembered, he mortally maligned) he was
very desirous to procure. And for the better achiev-
ing thereof requested Longland, Bishop of Lincoln,
being ghostly father to the king, to put a scruple into
his grace's head, that it was not lawful for him to
marry his brother's wife. Which the king not sorry
to hear of, opened it first to Sir Thomas More, whose
counsel he required therein, showing him certain
places of Scripture that seemed somewhat to serve his
32
appetite. Which when he had perused, and there-
upon, as one that never had professed the study of
divinity, himself excused to be unmeet many ways to
meddle with such matters, the king, not satisfied
with his answer, so sore still pressed upon him there-
fore, that in conclusion he condescended to his grace's
motion. And farther, forasmuch as the case was of
such importance as needed good advisement and
deliberation, he besought his grace of sufficient respite
advisedly to consider of it. Wherewith the king,
well contented, said unto him, that Tunstal and
Clarke, Bishops of Bath and Durham, with other
learned of his privy council, should also be dealers
therein. So Sir Thomas More departing conferred
those places of Scripture with the exposition of divers
of the old holy doctors. And at his coming to the
court in talking with his grace of the foresaid matter,
he said, " To be plain with your grace, neither my
Lord of Durham, nor my Lord of Bath, though I
know them both to be wise, virtuous, learned and
honourable prelates, nor myself with the rest of your
council, being all your grace's own servants, for your
manifold benefits daily bestowed on us so much
bounden unto you, be in my judgment meet coun-
sellors for your grace herein. But if your grace mind
to understand the truth, such counsellors may you
T.M. 33 D
have devised, as neither for respect of their own
worldly commodity, nor for fear of your princely
authority, will be inclined to deceive you." To
whom he named then St. Jerome, St. Augustine, and
divers other old holy doctors both Greeks and Latins :
and moreover showed him what authorities he had
gathered out of them. Which although the king (as
disagreeable to his desire) did not very well like of,
yet were they by Sir Thomas More (who in all his
communication with the king in that matter had
always most discreetly behaved himself) so wisely
tempered, that he both presently took them in good
part, and oftentimes had thereof conference with him
again. After this were there certain questions among
his council proponed, Whether the king needed in
this case to have any scruple at all ? and if he had,
what way were best to be taken to deliver him of it ?
The most part of them were of the opinion that there
was good cause of scruple, and that for the discharg-
ing of it, suit were meet to be made to the see of
Rome, where the king hoped by liberality to obtain
his purpose ; wherein, as it after appeared, he was far
deceived. Then was there, for the examination and
trial of this matrimony, procured from Rome a com-
mission in which Cardinal Campegius, and Cardinal
Wolsey were joined commissioners, who for the deter-
34
mination thereof sat at the Black-Friars in London,
where a libel was put in for the annulling of the said
matrimony, alleging the marriage between the king
and queen to be unlawful. And for proof of the
marriage to be lawful was there brought in a dispen-
sation, in which after divers disputations thereupon
holden, there appeared an imperfection ; which, by
an instrument or brief, found upon search in the
treasury of Spain and sent to the commissioners in
England, was supplied. And so should judgment
have been given by the pope accordingly, had not
the king, upon intelligence thereof, before the same
judgment, appealed to the next general council ; after
whose appellation the cardinals upon that matter sat
no longer. It fortuned, before the matter of the said
matrimony brought in question, when I in talk with
Sir Thomas More (of a certain joy) commended unto
him the happy estate of this realm, that had so catholic
a prince that no heretic durst show his face ; so
virtuous and learned a clergy, so grave and sound a
nobility, and so loving obedient subjects all in one
faith agreeing together. " Troth, it is indeed, son
Roper," quoth he, (and went far beyond me in com-
mending all degrees and estates of the same), " and
yet, son Roper, I pray God," said he, " that some of
us, as high as we seem to sit upon the mountains
35
treading heretics under our feet like ants, live not the
day that we gladly would wish to be at league and
composition with them to let them have their
churches quietly to themselves, so that they would be
contented to let us have ours quietly to ourselves."
After that I had told him many considerations why
he had no cause to say so ; " Well," said he, " I pray
God, son Roper, some of us live not till that day " :
showing me no reason why I should put any doubt
therein. To whom I said, " By my troth, sir, it is
very desperately spoken." That vile term, I cry God
mercy, did I give him : who, by these words per-
ceiving me in a fume, said merrily unto me, " Well,
well, son Roper, it shall not be so, it shall not be so."
Whom in sixteen years and more, being in his house
conversant with him, I could never perceive as much
as once in a fume.
BUT now to return again where I left. After
the supplying of the imperfection of the dis-
pensation, sent, as is before rehearsed, to the com-
missioners into England, the king, taking the matter
for ended, and then meaning no farther to proceed in
that matter, appointed the Bishop of Durham and Sir
Thomas More to go ambassadors to Cambray, a place
neither Imperial nor French, to treat a peace between
the Emperor, the French king, and him. In the
concluding whereof Sir Thomas More so worthily
handled himself, procuring in our league far more
benefits unto this realm, than at that time by the
king or his council was thought possible to be com-
passed, that for his good service in that voyage, the
king, when he after made him Lord Chancellor,
caused the Duke of Norfolk openly to declare to the
people, as you shall hear hereafter more at large, how
much all England was bounden unto him. Now
upon the coming home of the Bishop of Durham and
37
Sir Thomas More from Cambray the king was as
earnest of persuading Sir Thomas More to agree to
the matter of his marriage as before, by many and
divers ways provoking him thereunto, for which, as it
was thought, he the rather soon after made him Lord
Chancellor, and farther declaring unto him that
though at his going over sea to Cambray he was in
utter despair thereof, yet he had conceived since some
good hope to compass it. For albeit his marriage,
being against the positive laws of the church, and
against the written law of God, was holpen by the
dispensation, yet was there another thing found out
of late, he said, whereby his marriage appeared to be
so directly against the law of nature that it could in
no wise by the church be dispensable, as Doctor
Stokesley, whom he had then [newly] preferred to be
Bishop of London, and in that case chiefly credited,
was able to instruct him : with whom he prayed him
in that point to confer. But for all his conference
with him he saw nothing of such force as could induce
him to change his opinion therein. Which notwith-
standing, the bishop showed himself in his report of
him to the king's highness so good and favourable,
that he said he found him in his grace's cause very
toward, and desirous to find some good matter where-
with he might truly serve his grace to his contenta-
38
tion. This Bishop Stokesley, being by the cardinal
not long before in the Star-chamber openly put to
rebuke, and awarded to the Fleet, not brooking this
contumelious usage, and thinking that forasmuch as
the cardinal, for lack of such forwardness in setting
forth the king's divorce as his grace looked for, was
out of his highness' favour, he had now a good
occasion offered him to revenge his quarrel ; farther
to increase the king's displeasure towards him, busily
travailed to invent some colourable device for the
king's furtherance in that behalf; which, as before is
remembered, he to his grace revealed, hoping thereby
to bring the king to the better liking of himself and
the more misliking of the cardinal, whom his highness
therefore soon after of his office displaced, and to Sir
Thomas More, the rather to move him to incline to
his side, the same in his stead committed. Who
between the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk being
brought through Westminster Hall to his place in
the Chancery, the Duke of Norfolk, in audience of
all the people there assembled, showed, that he was
from the king himself straightly charged by special
commission, there openly in presence of them all, to
make declaration how much all England was be-
holden unto Sir Thomas More for his good service,
and how worthy he was to have the highest room in
39
the realm, and how dearly his grace loved and trusted
him, for which, said the duke, he had great cause to
rejoice. Whereunto Sir Thomas More, amongst
many other his humble and wise sayings not now in
my memory, answered, that although he had good
cause to take comfort of his highness' singular favour
towards him, that he had, far above his deserts, so
highly commended him, to whom therefore he ac-
knowledged himself most deeply bounden : yet never-
theless he must for his own part needs confess that in
all things by his grace alleged he had done no more
than was his duty : and farther disabled himself to be
unmeet for that room, wherein, considering how wise
and honourable a prelate had lately before taken so
great a fall, he said he had no cause thereof to
rejoice. And as they had charged him, on the king's
behalf, uprightly to administer indifferent justice to
the people, without corruption or affection, so did he
likewise charge them again that if they saw him at
any time in any thing digress from any part of his
duty in that honourable office, even as they would
discharge their own duty and fidelity to God and the
king, so should they not fail to disclose it to his grace,
who otherwise might have just occasion to lay his
fault wholly to their charge.
40
WHILE he was Lord Chancellor, being at
leisure (as seldom he was), one of his sons-
in-law on a time said merrily unto him : " When
Cardinal Wolsey was Lord Chancellor, not only
divers of his privy chamber, but such also as were his
doorkeepers, gat great gain"; (and since he had
married one of his daughters, and gave still attend-
ance upon him, he thought he might of reason look
for some) ; where he indeed, because he was ready
himself to hear every man, poor and rich, and keep
no doors shut from them, could find none ; which
was to him a great discouragement. And whereas
some for friendship, some for kindred, and some for
profit would gladly have his furtherance in bringing
them to his presence, if he should now take any thing
of them, he knew, he said, he should do them great
wrong, for that they might do as much for themselves
as he could do for them. Which condition, though
he thought in Sir Thomas More very commendable,
41
yet to him, he said, being his son he found it nothing
profitable. When he had told him this tale, " you
say well, son," quoth he, " I do not mislike that you
are of conscience so scrupulous ; but many other ways
be there, son, that I may both do you good, and
pleasure your friend also. For sometime may I by
my word stand your friend in stead, and sometime
may I by my letter help him ; or if he have a cause
depending before me, at your request I may hear him
before another. Or if his cause be not all the best,
yet may I move the parties to fall to some reasonable
end by arbitrement. Howbeit this one thing, son, I
assure thee on my faith, that if the parties will at my
hands call for justice, then all-were-it my father stood
on the one side, and the devil on the other, his cause
being good, the devil should have right." So offered
he his son as he thought, he said, so much favour as
he could with reason require. And that he would
for no respect digress from justice, well appeared by a
plain example of another of his sons-in-law called
Master Heron. For when he, having a matter
before him in the Chancery, and presuming too much
of his favour, would by him in no wise be persuaded
to agree to any indifferent order, then made he in
conclusion a flat decree against him. This Lord
Chancellor used commonly every afternoon to sit in
his open hall, to the intent that if any person had any
suit unto him, they might the more boldly come to
his presence, and there open their complaints before
him. Whose manner was also to read every bill
himself, ere he would award any subpoena, which
bearing matter worthy a subpoena would he set his
hand unto, or else cancel it. Whensoever he passed
through Westminster Hall to his place in the Chan-
cery, by the Court of the King's Bench, if his father
(one of the judges thereof) had been seated or he
came, he would go into the same court, and there
reverently kneeling down, in the sight of them all,
duly ask his father's blessing. And if it fortuned
that his father and he at readings in Lincoln's Inn
met together, (as they sometimes did) notwithstand-
ing his high office he would offer in argument the
pre-eminence to his father, though he, for his office
sake, would refuse to take it. And for the better
declaration of his natural affection towards his father,
he not only, while he lay in his death bed, according
to his duty, oft-times with comfortable words most
kindly came to visit him, but also at his departure
out of the world, with tears taking him about the
neck most lovingly kissed and embraced him, com-
mending him into the merciful hands of Almighty
God, and so departed from him. And as few in-
43
junctions as he granted while he was Lord Chancellor,
yet were they by some of the judges of the law mis-
liked ; which I understanding declared the same
unto Sir Thomas More. Who answered me that
they should have little cause to find fault with him
therefore, and thereupon caused he one Master
Crooke, chief of the Six Clerks, to make a docket con-
taining the whole number and causes of all such
injunctions as either in his time had already passed,
or at that present depended in any of the king's
courts at Westminster before him. Which done he
invited all the Judges to dine with him in the council
chamber at Westminster ; where, after dinner, when
he had broken with them what complaints he had
heard of his injunctions, and moreover showed them
both the number and causes of every one of them, in
order so plainly, that, upon full debating of those
matters, they were all enforced to confess that they,
in like case, could have done no otherwise themselves.
Then offered he this unto them : that if the justices
of every court unto whom the reformation of the
rigour of the law, by reason of their office, most
especially appertained, would upon reasonable
considerations by their own discretions, as they were,
as he thought, in conscience bound, mitigate and re-
form the rigour of the law themselves, there should from
thenceforth by him no more injunctions be granted.
Whereunto, when they refused to condescend, then
said he unto them, " Forasmuch as yourselves, my
lords, drive me to that necessity for awarding out
injunctions to relieve the people's injury, you cannot
hereafter any more justly blame me." After that he
said secretly to me : " I perceive, son, why they like
not so to do. For they see that they may, by the
verdict of the jury, cast off all quarrels from them-
selves upon them, which they account their chief
defence ; and therefore am I compelled to abide the
adventure of all such reports." And, as little leisure
as he had to be occupied in the study of the
Holy Scripture, and controversies about religion, and
such other virtuous exercises, being in a manner
continually busied about the affairs of the king and
the realm, yet such watch and pain in setting forth
of divers profitable works in the defence of the true
Christian religion, against heresies secretly sown abroad
in the realm, assuredly sustained he, that the bishops
(to whose pastoral care the reformation thereof most
principally appertained) thinking themselves by his
travail (wherein by their own confession they were
not able with him to make comparison) of their
duties in that behalf discharged ; and, considering
that, for all his prince's favour, he was no rich man,
45
nor in yearly revenues advanced as his worthiness
deserved ; therefore, at a convocation among them-
selves and others of the clergy, they agreed together
and concluded upon a sum of four or five thousand
pounds, at the least, to my remembrance, for his
pains to recompense him. To the payment whereof
every bishop, abbot, and the rest of the clergy were
after the rate of their abilities liberal contributors,
hoping that this portion should be to his contenta-
tion. Whereupon Tunstal, Bishop of Durham, Clarke,
Bishop of Bath, and as far as I can call to mind,
Vaysye, Bishop of Exeter, repaired unto him, de-
claring how thankfully for his travails to their dis-
charge in God's cause bestowed, they reckoned them-
selves bounden to consider him. And that albeit
they could not according to his desert, so worthily as
they gladly would, requite him therefore, but must
refer that only to the goodness of God ; yet for a
small part of recompense in respect of his estate, so
unequal to his worthiness, in the name of their
whole convocation they presented unto him that sum,
which they desired him to take in good part. Who,
forsaking it, said, that like as it was no small comfort
unto him that so wise and learned men so well
accepted his simple doings, for which he never in-
tended to receive reward but at the hands of God
46
only, to whom alone was the thank thereof chiefly
to be ascribed ; so gave he most humble thanks unto
their honours all for their so bountiful and friendly
consideration. When they, for all their importunate
pressing upon him (that few would have weened he
could have refused) could by no means make him to
take it, then besought they him to ,be content yet
that they might bestow it on his wife and children.
"Not so, my lords," quoth he, "I had liever see it
cast into the Thames, than either I or any of mine
should have thereof the worth of a penny. For
though your offer, my lords, be indeed very friendly
and honourable, yet set I so much by my pleasure,
and so little by my profit, that I would not, in good
faith, have lost the rest of so many a night's sleep as
was spent upon the same, for much more than your
liberal offer. And yet wish would I for all that,
upon condition that all heresies were suppressed, that
all my books were burned, and my labour utterly
lost." Thus departing were they fain to restore
unto every man his own again.
47
THIS Lord Chancellor, albeit he was to God
and the world well known to be of notable
virtue, though not so of every man considered, yet,
for the avoiding of singularity, would he appear no
otherwise than other men in his apparel and other
behaviour. And albeit he appeared outwardly hon-
ourable like one of his calling, yet inwardly he, no
such vanities esteeming, secretly next his body wore a>
shirt of hair. Which my sister More, a young
gentlewoman, in the summer as he sat at supper
singly in his doublet and hose, wearing thereupon a
plain shirt without either ruff or collar, chancing to
espy, began to laugh at it. My wife, not ignorant
of his manner, perceiving the same, privily told him
of it, and he being sorry that she saw it, presently
amended it. He also sometimes used to punish his
body with whips, the cords knotted, which was known
only to my wife, his eldest daughter, whom, for her
secrecy, above all other he specially trusted, causing
48
her, as need required, to wash the same shirt of hair.
Now shortly upon his entry into the high office of
the chancellorship, the king eftsoons again moved
him to weigh and consider Ms-great matter. Who
falling down on his knees, humbly besought his high-
ness to stand his gracious sovereign, as ever since his
entry into his gracious service he had found him,
saying, there was nothing in the world had been so
grievous unto his heart, as to remember that he was
not able (as he willingly would with the loss of one
of his limbs), for that matter, anything to find where-
by he could serve his grace to his contentation, as he
that always bare in mind the most godly words that
his highness spake unto him at his first coming into
his noble service, the most virtuous lesson that ever
prince taught his servant : willing him first to look
unto God, and after God unto him : as in good faith,
he said, he did, or else might his grace well account
him his most unworthy servant. To this the king
answered, that if he could not therein with his con-
science serve him, he was content to accept his
service otherwise, and, using the advice of other of
his learned council whose consciences could well
enough agree therewith, would nevertheless continue
his gracious favour towards him, and never with that
matter molest his conscience afterward. But Sir
T.M. 49 E
Thomas More in process of time seeing the king
fully determined to proceed forth in the marriage of
Queen Anne : and when he with the bishops and
nobles of the higher house of parliament were, for
the furtherance of that marriage, commanded by the
king to go down unto the Commons' House, to show
unto them both what the Universities, as well of
other parts beyond the seas as of Oxford and Cam-
bridge, had done in that behalf, and their seals also
testifying the same, all which matters, at the king's
request, not showing of what mind himself was
therein, he opened to the lower house of the parlia-
ment. Nevertheless, doubting lest further attempts
after should follow, which, contrary to his conscience,
by reason of his office, he was likely to be put unto,
he made suit unto the Duke of Norfolk, his singular
dear friend, to be a mean to the king that he might,
with his grace's favour, be discharged of that charge-
able room of the chancellorship, wherein, for certain
infirmities of his body, he pretended himself unable
any longer to serve. This duke, coming on a time
to Chelsea to dine with him, fortuned to find him
at the church, in the quire, with a surplice on his
back, singing. To whom, after service, as they went
homeward together arm in arm, the duke said,
" God's body, God's body, my Lord Chancellor, a
50
parish clerk, a parish clerk ! You dishonour the
king, and his office." "Nay," quoth Sir Thomas
More, smiling on the duke, "your grace may not
think that the king, your master and mine, will with
me for serving of God his master, be offended, or
thereby account his office dishonoured." When the
duke, being thereunto often solicited, by importunate
suit had at length of the king obtained for Sir
Thomas More a clear discharge of his office, then, at
a time convenient, by his highness* appointment,
repaired he to his grace to yield up to him the great
seal. Which, as his grace with thanks and praise for
his worthy service in that office, courteously at his
hands received, so pleased it his highness to say more
unto him ; that for the good service which he before
had done him, in any suit which he should after
have unto him, that should either concern his
honour for that word it pleased his highness to use
unto him or that should appertain unto his profit,
he should find his highness good and gracious lord
unto him. After he had thus given over the chan-
cellorship, and placed all his gentlemen and yeomen
with noblemen and bishops, and his eight watermen
with the Lord Audley that in the same office succeeded
him, to whom also he gave his great barge : then
calling us all that were his children unto him, and
5'
asking our advice how we might now in this decay
of his ability, by the surrender of his office so im-
paired, that he could not as he was wont, and gladly
would, bear out the whole charges of them all
himself, from thenceforth be able to live and con-
tinue together, as he wished we should ; when he
saw us silent, and in that case not ready to show our
opinions unto him, " then will I," said he, " show
my poor mind to you. I have been brought up,"
quoth he, " at Oxford, at an Inn of the Chancery, at
Lincoln's Inn, and also in the king's court, and so
forth from the lowest degree to the highest, and yet
have I in yearly revenues at this present left me little
above a hundred pounds by the year. So that now
we must hereafter, if we like to live together, be con-
tented to become contributaries together. But by
my counsel it shall not be best for us to fall to the
lowest fare first ; we will not, therefore, descend to
Oxford fare, nor to the fare of New Inn, but we
will begin with Lincoln's Inn diet, where many
right- worshipful and of good years do live full well.
Which, if we find not ourselves the first year able to
maintain, then we will the next year go one step
down to New Inn fare, wherewith many an honest
man is well contented. If that exceed our ability
too, then will we, the next year after, descend to
5*
Oxford fare, where many grave learned and ancient
fathers be continually conversant. Which, if our
ability stretch not to maintain neither ; then may we
yet, with bags and wallets, go a-begging together, and
hoping that for pity some good folk will give us their
charity, at every man's door to sing Salve Regina, and
so still keep company and be merry together." And
whereas you have heard before, he was by the king
from a very worshipful living taken into his grace's
service, with whom, in all the great and weighty
causes that concerned his highness or the realm, he
consumed and spent with painful cares, travail, and
trouble, as well beyond the seas as within the realm,
in effect, the whole substance of his life, yet with all
the gain he got thereby, being never wasteful spender
thereof, he was not able, after the resignation of his
office of Lord Chancellor, for the maintenance of
himself and such as necessarily belonged unto him,
sufficiently to find meat, drink, fuel, apparel, and
such other necessary charges. All the land that ever
he purchased which also he purchased before he
was Lord Chancellor was not, I am well assured,
above the value of twenty marks by the year : and
after his debts paid, he had not, I know, his chain
excepted, in gold and silver left him the worth of
one hundred pounds. And whereas upon the holy-
53
days, during his high chancellorship, one of his
gentlemen, when service at the church was done,
ordinarily used to come to my lady his wife's pew-
door, and say unto her, " Madam, my lord is gone,"
the next holyday after the surrender of his office and
departure of his gentlemen, he came unto my lady
his wife's pew himself, and making a low courtesy,
said unto her, " Madam, my lord is gone." But she,
thinking this at first to be but one of his jests, was
little moved, till he told her sadly he had given up
the great seal. Whereupon she speaking some passion-
ate words, he called his daughters then present to see
if they could not spy some fault about their mother's
dressing, but they, after search, saying they could find
none, he replied, " do you not perceive that your
mother's nose standeth somewhat awry ?" Of which
jeer the provoked lady was so sensible that she went
from him in a rage. In the time somewhat before
his trouble he would talk unto his wife and children
of the joys of heaven and pains of hell, of the lives
of holy martyrs, of their grievous martyrdoms, of
their marvellous patience, and of their passions and
deaths that they suffered rather than they would
offend God, and what a happy and blessed thing it
was for the love of God to suffer the loss of goods,
imprisonment, loss of lands, and life also. He would
54
farther say unto them, that upon his faith, if he
might perceive his wife and children would encourage
him to die in a good cause, it should so comfort him
that for very joy thereof it would make him merrily
run to death. He showed to them before what
trouble might after fall unto him : wherewith and the
like virtuous talk he had so long before his trouble
encouraged them, that when he after fell into trouble
indeed, his trouble was to them a great deal the less.
Quia splcula prcevlsa minus Lzdunt. Now upon this
resignment of his office, came Sir Thomas Cromwell,
then in the king's high favour, to Chelsea to him
with a message from the king. Wherein when they
had thoroughly communed together, "Master Crom-
well," quoth he, " you are now entered into the
service of a most noble, wise, and liberal prince ; if
you will follow my poor advice, you shall, in your
counsel-giving to his grace, ever tell him what he
ought to do, but never what he is able to do. So
shall you show yourself a true faithful servant, and a
right wise and worthy counsellor. For if a lion
knew his own strength, hard were it for any man to
rule him." Shortly thereupon was there a com-
mission directed to Cranmer, then Archbishop of
Canterbury, to determine the matter of the matri-
mony between the king and Queen Katharine, at
55
St. Alban's, where, according to the king's mind, it
was thoroughly determined. Who pretending be-
cause he had no justice at the Pope's hands, from
thenceforth sequestered himself from the see of Rome,
and so married the Lady Anne Bullen. Which Sir
Thomas More understanding, said unto me, "God
give grace, son, that these matters within a while be
not confirmed with oaths." I, at that time, seeing
no likelihood thereof, yet fearing lest for his fore-
speaking it would the sooner come to pass, waxed
therefore for his so saying much offended with him.
IT fortuned not long before the coming of Queen
Anne through the streets of London from the
Tower to Westminster to her coronation, that he
received a letter from the Bishops of Durham, Bath
and Winchester, requesting him both to keep them
company from the Tower to the coronation, and also
to take twenty pounds, that by the bearer thereof
they had sent him, to buy a gown withal ; which he
thankfully receiving, and at home still tarrying, at
their next meeting said merrily unto them ; " My
lords, in the letters which you lately sent me you
required two things of me : the one, sith I was so
well content to grant you, the other therefore I
thought I might be the bolder to deny you. And
like as the one, because I took you for no beggars,
and myself I knew to be no rich man, I thought I
might the rather fulfil, so the other did put me in
remembrance of an emperor who ordained a law that
whosoever had committed a certain heinous offence
57
(which I now remember not), except it were a virgin,
should suffer the pains of death such a reverence
had he to virginity. Now so it happened that the
first committer of that offence was indeed a virgin,
whereof the emperor hearing was in no small per-
plexity, as he that by some example would fain have
had that law put in execution. Whereupon when
his council had sat long, solemnly debating this cause,
suddenly rose there up one of his council, a good
plain man, amongst them, and said, ' Why make you
so much ado, my lords, about so small a matter ? let
her first be deflowered, and then after may she be
devoured.' And so though your lordships have in
the matter of the matrimony hitherto kept yourselves
pure virgins, yet take good heed, my lords, that you
keep your virginity still. For some there be that by
procuring your lordships first at the coronation to be
present, and next to preach for the setting forth of it,
and finally to write books to all the world in defence
thereof are desirous to deflower you, and- when they
have deflowered you, then will they not fail soon after
to devour you. Now, my Lords," quoth he, " it lieth
not in my power but that they may devour me, but
God being my good Lord, I will so provide that they
shall never deflower me."
IN continuance : when the king saw that he could
by no manner of benefit win him to his side,
then lo, went he about by terror and threats to drive
him thereunto. The beginning of which trouble
grew by occasion of a certain nun dwelling in Canter-
bury, for her virtue and holiness of life among the
people not a little esteemed : unto whom, for that
cause, many religious persons, doctors of divinity,
and divers others of good worship of the laity used
to resort. Who affirming that she had revelations
from God to give the king warning of his wicked
life, and of the abuse of the sword and authority
committed to him by God, and understanding my
Lord of Rochester, Bishop Fisher, to be a man of
notable virtuous living and learning, repaired to
Rochester, and there disclosed unto him all her
revelations, desiring his advice and council therein.
Which the bishop perceiving might well stand with
the laws of God and His holy church, advised her
59
(as she before had warning and intended) to go to
the king herself, and to let him know and under-
stand the whole circumstance thereof. Whereupon
she went to the king and told him all her revelations,
and so returned home again. And in short space
after, making a journey to the nuns of Sion, by
means of one Master Raynolds, a father of the same
house, she there fortuned, concerning such secrets
as had been revealed unto her (some part whereof
seemed to touch the matter of the king's supremacy
and marriage which shortly followed), to enter into
talk with Sir Thomas More. Who, notwithstanding
he might well at that time without danger of any
law though after, as himself had prognosticated
before, those matters were established by statutes
and confirmed by oaths freely and safely have
talked with her therein, nevertheless in all the com-
munication between them (as in process it appeared)
had always so discreetly demeaned himself, that he
deserved not to be blamed, but contrariwise to be
commended and praised. And had he not been one
that in all his great offices and doings for the king
and the realm, so many years together, had from all
corruption and wrong-doing or bribes-taking kept him-
self so clear, that no man was able therewith once
to blame or blemish him, or make any just quarrel
60
against him, it would without doubt in this troublous
time of the king's indignation towards him have been
deeply laid to his charge, and of the king's highness
most favourably accepted. As in the case of one
Parnell it most manifestly appeared ; against whom,
because Sir Thomas More while he was Lord
Chancellor, at the suit of one Vaughan his adversary,
had made a decree, this Parnell to his highness most
grievously complained that he, for making the decree,
had of the said Vaughan, unable to travel abroad
himself for the gout, by the hands of his wife taken
a fair great gilt cup for a bribe. Who thereupon,
by the king's appointment being called before the
whole council where the matter was heinously laid
to his charge, forthwith confessed that forasmuch as
that cup was, long after the foresaid decree, brought
him for a New Year's gift, he, upon her importunate
pressing upon him thereof, of courtesy refused not to
receive it. Then the Lord of Wiltshire, for hatred
of his religion preferrer of this suit, with much re-
joicing said unto the lords : " Lo, my lords, did I
not tell you, my lords, that you should find this
matter true ? " Whereupon Sir Thomas More de-
sired their lordships that as they had heard him
courteously tell the one part of his tale, so that they
would vouchsafe of their honours indifferently to hear
61
the other. After which obtained, he farther declared
unto them, that albeit he had indeed with much
work received that cup, yet immediately thereupon
caused he his butler to fill it with wine, and of that
cup drank to her ; and that when he had so done
and she pledged him, then as freely as her husband
had given it to him even so freely gave he the same
again to her to give unto her husband for his New
Year's gift : which, at his instant request, though
much against her will, at length yet she was fain to
receive, as herself and certain others there present
before them deposed. Thus was the great moun-
tain turned scant to a little molehill. So I remem-
ber that at another time, upon a New Year's day,
there came unto him one Mistress Croker, a rich
widow, for whom with no small pains he had made
a decree in the Chancery against the Lord of Arundel,
to present him with a pair of gloves and forty pounds
in angels in them for a New Year's gift. Of whom
he thankfully receiving the gloves, but refusing the
money, said unto her : " Mistress, since it were
against good manners to forsake a gentlewoman's
New Year's gift, I am content to take your gloves,
but as for your money I utterly refuse." So, much
against her mind, enforced he her to take her gold
again. And one Master Gresham likewise at the
62
same time, having a cause depending in the Chancery
before him, sent him for New Year's gift a fair gilt
cup, the fashion whereof he very well liking, caused
one of his own, though not in his fantasy of so good
a fashion yet better in value, to be brought out of
his chamber, which he willed the messenger, in re-
compense to deliver unto his master, and under other
conditions would he in no wise receive it. Many
things more of like effect, for the declaration of his
innocency and clearness from all corruption or evil
affection, could I here rehearse besides, which for
tediousness omitting, I refer to the readers by these
few fore-remembered examples with their own judg-
ments wisely to weigh and consider.
AT the parliament following was there put into
the Lords' house a bill to attaint the nun, and
divers other religious persons, of high treason, and
the Bishop of Rochester, Sir Thomas More, and
certain others of misprision of treason ; the king pre-
supposing of likelihood that this bill would be to Sir
Thomas More so troublous and terrible that it would
force him to relent and condescend to his request ;
wherein his grace was much deceived. To which
bill Sir Thomas More was a suitor personally to be
received in his own defence to make answer. But
the king not liking that, assigned the Bishop of Can-
terbury, the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk,
and Master Cromwell, at a day and place appointed,
to call Sir Thomas More before them. At which
time I, thinking that I had a good and fit oppor-
tunity, earnestly advised him to labour to those lords
for the help of his discharge out of the parliament
bill. Who answered me he would. And at his
64
coming before them, according to their appointment,
they entertained him very friendly, willing him to
sit down with them, which in no wise he would.
Then began the Lord Chancellor to declare unto
him how many ways the king had showed his love
and favour towards him ; how fain he would have
had him continue in his office ; how glad he would
have been to have heaped more benefits upon him ;
and finally how he could ask no worldly honour nor
profit at his highness' hands that were likely to be
denied him ; hoping, by the declaration of the king's
kindness and affection towards him, to provoke him
to recompense his grace with the like again, and unto
those things which the parliament, the bishops, and
the Universities had already passed, to add his con-
sent. To this Sir Thomas More mildly made answer,
saying, " No man living is there, my lords, that would
with better will do the thing that should be accept-
able to the king's highness than I, which must needs
confess his manifold benefits and bountiful goodness,
most benignly bestowed upon me. Howbeit, I verily
hoped I should never have heard of this matter more,
considering that I have from time to time always
from the beginning, so plainly and truly declared my
mind unto his grace, which his highness ever seemed
to me, like a most gracious prince, very well to
T.M. 65 F
accept, never minding, as he said, to molest me more
therewith. Since which time any further thing that
was able to move me to any change could I never
find ; and if I could, there is none in all the world
that would have been gladder of it than I." Many
things more were there of like sort uttered on both
sides. But in the end, when they saw they could
by no manner of persuasions remove him from his
former determination, then began they more terribly
to touch him, telling him that the king's highness
had given them in commandment if they could by
no gentleness win him, in his name with his great
ingratitude to charge him, that never was there
servant to his sovereign so villainous, nor subject to
his prince so traitorous as he. For he by his subtle
sinister sleights most unnaturally procuring and pro-
voking him to set forth a book of the assertion of
the seven sacraments and maintenance of the Pope's
authority, had caused him, to his dishonour through-
out all Christendom, to put a sword in the Pope's
hand to fight against himself. When they had thus
laid forth all the terrors they could imagine against
him : " My lords," quoth he, " these terrors be
arguments for children, and not for me. But to
answer that wherewith you do chiefly burthen me, I
believe the king's highness of his honour will never
66
lay that to my charge, or none is there that can in
that point say in my excuse more than his highness
himself, who right well knoweth that I was never
procurer nor counsellor of his majesty thereunto, but
after it was finished, by his grace's appointment and
consent of the makers of the same, I was only a
sorter out and placer of the principal matters therein
contained. Wherein when I found the pope's
authority highly advanced, and with strong argu-
ments mightily defended, I said unto his grace, ' I
must put your highness in remembrance of one thing,
and that is this ; the Pope, as your grace knoweth, is
a prince as you are, and in league with all other
Christian princes : it may here after so fall out that
your grace and he may vary upon some points of the
league, whereupon may grow breach of amity and
war between you both ; I think it best therefore that
that place be amended, and his authority more slen-
derly touched.' 'Nay/ quoth his grace, 'that it
shall not : we are so much bounden unto the see of
Rome that we cannot do too much honour unto it.'
Then did I farther put him in remembrance of the
Statute of Praemunire, whereby a good part of the
Pope's pastoral care here was pared away. To that
answered his highness : ' Whatsoever impediment be
to the contrary, we will set forth that authority to
6?
the uttermost, for we received from that see our
crown imperial ' ; which I never heard of before till
his grace told it me with his own mouth. So that I
trust when his grace shall be truly informed of this,
and call to his gracious remembrance my doing in
that behalf, his highness will never speak of it more,
but clear me therein thoroughly himself." And thus
displeasantly departed they. ^ Then took Sir Thomas
More his boat towards his house at Chelsea, wherein
by the way he was very merry, and for that I was
nothing sorry, hoping that he had gotten himself dis-
charged out of the parliament bill. When he was landed
and come home, then walked we twain alone in his
garden together : where I, desirous to know how he
had sped, said : " I trust, Sir, that all is well because
that you be so merry." " It is so indeed, son Roper,
I thank God," quoth he. " Are you then put out
of the parliament bill ? " quoth I. " By my troth,
son Roper," quoth he, " I never rememembered it ! "'
" Never remembered it ! " said I, " a case that ,
toucheth yourself so near, and us all for your sake v
I am sorry to hear it, for I verily trusted, when I
saw you so merry, that all had been well." Then
said he : " Wilt thou know, son Roper, why I was so
merry?" "That would I gladly, Sir," quoth I.
" In good faith I rejoiced, son," said he, " that I had
68
given the devil a foul fall, and that with those lords
I had gone so far as without great shame I could
never go back again." At which words waxed I
very sad ; for though himself liked it well, yet liked
it me but a little. Now upon the report made by
the Lord Chancellor and the other lords to the king
of all their whole discourse had with Sir Thomas
More, the king was so highly offended with him,
he plainly told them he was fully determined that
the foresaid parliament bill should undoubtedly pro-
ceed forth against him. To whom the Lord Chan-
cellor and the rest of the lords said, that they per-
ceived the lords of the upper house so precisely bent
to hear him, in his own defence, make answer him-
self, that if he were not put out of the bill, it would,
without fail, be utterly an overthrow of all. But for
all this, needs would the king have his own will
therein, or else, he said that at the passing thereof he
would be personally present himself. Then the
Lord Audley and the rest, seeing him so vehemently
set thereupon, on their knees, most humbly besought
his grace to forbear the same, considering that if he
should in his own presence receive an overthrow, it
would not only encourage his subjects ever after to
contemn him, but also through all Christendom re-
dound to his dishonour for ever : adding thereunto
that they mistrusted not in time against him to find
some meeter matter to serve his grace's turn better ;
for in this cause of the nun he was accounted, they
said, so innocent and clear, that for his dealing
therein, men reckoned him far worthier of praise
than reproof.. Whereupon, at length, through their
earnest persuasion, he was content to condescend to
their petition ; and on the morrow, after Master
Cromwell meeting me in the parliament house, willed
me to tell my father that he was put out of the parlia-
ment bill. But because I had appointed to dine that
day in London, I sent the message by my servant to
my wife to Chelsea. Whereof when she informed her
father : " In faith, Megg," quoth he, " Quod dlffertur
non aufertur." After this, as the Duke of Norfolk and
Sir Thomas More chanced to fall in familiar talk
together, the Duke said unto him : " By the mass,
Master More, it is perilous striving with princes,
therefore I would wish you somewhat to incline to
the king's pleasure. For by God's body, Master
More, Indignatio pnnclpu mors esf." * " Is that all, my
lord ? " quoth he. I " Then in good faith the differ-
ence between your grace and me is but this, that 7
shall die to-day and you to-morroiv" So fell it out,
within a month or thereabout, after the making of
the Statute for the Oath of the Supremacy and
70
Matrimony, that all the priests of London and West-
minster, and no temporal men but he, were sent for
to appear at Lambeth before the Bishop of Canter-
bury, the Lord Chancellor, and Secretary Cromwell,
commissioners appointed there to tender the oath
unto them. Then Sir Thomas More, as his accus-
tomed manner was always ere he entered into any
matter of importance as when he was first chosen
of the king's privy council, when he was sent ambas-
sador, appointed Speaker of the Parliament, made
Lord Chancellor, or when he took any like weighty
matter upon him to go to church and be confessed,
to hear mass, and be houseled, so did he likewise
in the morning early the selfsame day that he was
summoned to appear before the lords at Lambeth.
And whereas he evermore used before, at his depar-
ture from his wife and children, whom he tenderly
loved, to have them bring him to his boat, and there
to kiss them, and bid them all farewell, then would
he suffer none of them forth of the gate to follow
him, but pulled the wicket after him, and shut them
all from him, and with a heavy heart, as by his
countenance it appeared, with me and our four
servants there took boat towards Lambeth. "Wherein
sitting still sadly a while, at the last he rounded me
in the ear and said : " Son Roper, I thank our Lord
71
the field is won." What he meant thereby I wist
not, yet loath to seem ignorant, I answered : " Sir,
I am thereof very glad." But, as I conjectured
afterwards, it was for that the love he had to God
wrought in him so effectually, that it conquered all
his carnal affections utterly. Now at his coming to
Lambeth, how wisely he behaved himself before the
commissioners at the ministration of the oath unto
him may be found in certain Letters of his sent to
my wife remaining in a great book of his works.
Where by the space of four days he was betaken to
the custody of the Abbot of Westminster, during
which time the king consulted with his council what
order were meet to be taken with him. And albeit
in the beginning they were resolved that with an
oath, not to be acknown, whether he had to the
supremacy been sworn, or what he thought thereof,
he should be discharged ; yet did Queen Anne by
her importunate clamour so sore exasperate the king
against him, that, contrary to his former resolution,
he caused the said Oath of the Supremacy to be
ministered unto him. Who albeit he made a dis-
creet qualified answer, nevertheless was committed to
the Tower. Who as he was going thitherward
wearing, as he commonly did, a chain of gold about
his neck, Sir Richard Cromwell, that had the charge
72
of his conveyance thither, advised him to send home
his chain to his wife or to some of his children.
" Nay, Sir," quoth he, " that I will not : for if I
were taken in the field by my enemies I would they
should somewhat fare the better for me." At whose
landing Master Lieutenant was ready at the Tower
gate to receive him, where the porter demanded of
him his upper garment. " Master porter," quoth he,
" here it is," and took off his cap and delivered it to
him, saying, " I am very sorry it is no better for
thee." " No, Sir," quoth the porter, " I must have
your gown." And so was he by Master Lieutenant
conveyed to his lodging, where he called unto him
one John a Wood, his own servant there appointed
to attend him, who could neither write nor read, and
sware him before the lieutenant, that if he should
hear or see him at any time speak or write any
matter against the king, the council, or the state ot
the realm, he should open it to the lieutenant, that
the lieutenant might incontinent reveal it to the
council.
73
NOW when he had remained in the Tower little
more than a month, my wife, longing to see
her father, by her earnest suit at length got leave to
go unto him. At whose coming after the seven
psalms and litany said which whensoever she came
to him, ere he fell in talk of any worldly matters, he
used accustomedly to say with her among other
communication he said unto her : " I believe, Megg,
that they that have put me here ween that they have
done me a high displeasure : but I assure thee on
my faith, mine own good daughter, if it had not
been for my wife and ye that be my children (whom
I account the chief part of my charge) I would not
have failed long ere this to have closed myself in as
straight a room, and straighter too. ' But since I am
come hither without mine own desert, I trust that God
of His goodness will discharge me of my care, and
with His gracious help supply my lack among you. I
find no cause, I thank God, Megg, to reckon myself
74
in worse case here than in mine own house, for me
thinketh God maketh me a wanton, and setteth me
on his lap and dandleth me." Thus, by his gracious
demeanour in tribulation, appeared it that all the
trouble that ever chanced unto him, by his patient
sufferance thereof, were to him no painful punish-
ments, but of his patience profitable exercises. And
at another time, when he had first questioned with
my wife a while of the order of his wife, children,
and state of his house in his absence, he asked her
how Queen Anne did. " In faith, Father," quoth
she, " never better." " Never better, Megg ! "
quoth he, " alas ! Megg, alas ! it pitieth me to re-
member into what misery, poor soul, she shall shortly
come."' After this Master Lieutenant coming into
his chamber to visit him, rehearsed the benefits and
friendship that he had many ways received at his
hands, and how much bounden he was therefore
friendly to entertain him, and to make him good
cheer ; which since, the case standing as it did, he
could do not without the king's indignation, he
trusted he said, he would accept his good will, and
such poor cheer as he had. " Master Lieutenant,"
quoth he again, " I verily believe as you say, so are
you my good friend indeed, and would, as you say,
with your best cheer entertain me, for the which I
75
most heartily thank you : and assure yourself, Master
Lieutenant, I do not mislike my cheer, but whenso-
ever I so do, then thrust me out of your doors."
Whereas the oath confirming the Supremacy and
Matrimony was by the first statute in few words com-
prised, the Lord Chancellor and Mr. Secretary did
of their own heads add more words unto it, to
make it appear to the king's ears more pleasant
and plausible, and that oath, so amplified, caused
they to be ministered to Sir Thomas More, and
to all other throughout the realm. Which Sir
Thomas More perceiving, said unto my wife :
" I may tell thee, Megg, they that have committed
me hither for the refusing of this oath, not agreeable
with the statute, are not by their own law able to
justify mine imprisonment : and surely, daughter, it
is great pity that any Christian prince should by a
flexible council ready to follow his affections, and
by a weak clergy lacking grace constantly to stand to
their learning, with flattery be so shamefully abused."
But, at length, the Lord Chancellor and Mr. Secre-
tary, espying their oversight in that behalf, were fain
afterward to find the means that another statute
should be made for the confirmation of the oath so
amplified with their additions.
76
AFTER Sir Thomas More had given over his
office, and all worldly doings therewith, to the
intent he might from thenceforth settle himself the
more quietly to the service of God, then made he a
conveyance for the disposition of all his lands, reserving
to himself an estate thereof only for term of his own
life : and after his decease assuring some part thereof
to his wife, some to his son's wife for a jointure in
consideration that she was an inheretrix in possession
of more than a hundred pounds land by the year,
and some to me and my wife in recompense of our
marriage money, with divers remainders over. All
which conveyance and assurance was perfectly finished
long before the matter whereupon he was attainted
was made an offence, and yet after by statute clearly
avoided ; and so were all his lands that he had to his
wife and children by the said conveyance in such sort
assured, contrary to the order of law, taken from them
and brought into the king's hands, saving that portion
77
which he had appointed to my wife and me. Which
although he had in the foresaid conveyance reserved
as he did the rest for term of life to himself, never-
theless upon consideration two days after by another
conveyance he gave the same immediately to my wife
and me in possession : and so because the statute had
undone only the first conveyance, giving no more to
the king but so much as passed by that, the second
conveyance, whereby it was given to my wife and me,
being dated two days after, was without the compass
of the statute, and so was our portion by that means
clearly reserved to us. As Sir Thomas More, in the
Tower, chanced on a time, looking out of his win-
dow, to behold one Master Reynolds, a religious,
learned and virtuous father of Sion, and three monks
of the Charterhouse, for the matter of the Supremacy
and Matrimony, going out of the Tower to execution,
he, as one longing in that journey to have accom-
panied them, said unto my wife, then standing there
beside him : " Lo, doest thou not see, Megg, that
these blessed fathers be now as cheerfully going to
their deaths as bridegrooms to their marriage ?
Wherefore thereby mayest thou see, mine own good
daughter, what a great difference there is between
such as have in effect spent all their days in a straight,
hard, penitential and painful life, religiously, and
78
such as have in the world, like worldly wretches, as
thy poor father hath done, consumed all their time
in pleasure and ease licentiously. For God, con-
sidering their long continued life in most sore and
grievous penance, will no longer suffer them to remain
here in this vale of misery and iniquity, but speedily
hence taketh them to the fruition of His everlasting
Deity. Whereas thy silly father, Megg, that like a
most wicked caitiff hath passed forth the whole course
of his miserable life most sinfully, God, thinking him
not worthy so soon to come to that eternal felicity,
leaveth him here yet still in the world further to be
plagued and turmoiled with misery." Within a
while after Master Secretary coming to him into the
Tower from the King, pretended much friendship
towards him, and for his comfort told him, that the
king's highness was his good and gracious lord, and
mindeth not with any matter wherein he should have
any cause of scruple henceforth to trouble his con-
science. As soon as Master Secretary was gone, to
express what comfort he received of his words, he
wrote with a coal, for ink then he had none, these
verses :
Eye-flatt'ring fortune, look thou ne'er so fair,
Or ne'er so pleasantly begin to smile,
As though thou wouldst my ruin all repair,
79
During my life thou shall not me beguile
Trust shall I, God, to enter in a while,
Thy haven of heaven sure and uniform,
E'er after thy calm look I for a storm.
80
WHEN Sir Thomas More had continued a
good while in the Tower, my lady, his wife,
obtained license to see him. Who, at her first com-
ing, like a simple ignorant woman, and somewhat
worldly too, with this manner of salutation bluntly
saluted him : " What the good-yere, Master More,"
quoth she, " I marvel that you that have been always
hitherto taken for so wise a man will now so play the
fool to lie here in this close filthy prison, and be
content thus to be shut up among mice and rats,
when you might be abroad at your liberty, and with
the favour and good will both of the king and his
council if you would but do as all the bishops and best
learned of this realm have done. And seeing you
have at Chelsea a right fair house, your library, your
gallery, your garden, your orchard, and all other
necessaries so handsome about you, where you might
in the company of me your wife, your children, and
household, be merry, I muse what a God's name you
T.M. 8 1 G
mean here still thus fondly to tarry." After he had
a while quietly heard her, with a cheerful coun-
tenance he said unto her : " I pray thee, good
Mistress Alice, tell me one thing ! " " What is
that ? " quoth she. " Is not this house," quoth he,
" as nigh heaven as mine own ? " To whom she
after her accustomed homely fashion, not liking such
talk, answered : " Tylle valle, Tylle valle ! " " How
say you, Mistress Alice, is it not so ? " " Bone Deus,
bone Deus, man, will this gear never be left ? " quoth
she. " Well then, Mistress Alice, if it be so," quoth
he, " it is very well. For I see no great cause why
I should much joy in my gay house, or in any thing
thereunto belonging, when if I should but seven
years lie buried under the ground and then arise and
come thither again, I should not fail to find some
therein that would bid me get out of doors, and tell
me it were none of mine. What cause have I then
to like such a house as would so soon forget his
master ? " So her persuasions moved him but a
little. Not long after came to him the Lord Chan-
cellor, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, with Master
Secretary, and certain other of the privy council, at
two several times by all policies possible procuring
him either precisely to confess the Supremacy, or
precisely to deny it, whereunto, as appeareth by his
82
examinations in the said great book, they could never
bring him. Shortly thereupon Master Rich, after-
ward Lord Rich, then newly made the King's Soli-
citor, Sir Richard Southwell, and one Master Palmer,
servant to the Secretary, were sent to Sir Thomas
More into the Tower to fetch away his books from
him. And while Sir Richard Southwell and Mr.
Palmer were busy in the trussing up of his books,
Mr. Rich, pretending friendly talk with him, among
other things of a set course, as it seemed, said thus
unto him : " Forasmuch as it is well known, Master
More, that you are a man both wise and well learned
as well in the laws of the realm as otherwise, I pray
you therefore, Sir, let me be so bold, as of good will,
to put unto you this case. Admit there were, Sir,"
quoth he, " an act of parliament that the realm
should take me for king, would not you, Mr. More,
take me for king ? " " Yes, Sir," quoth Sir Thomas
More, " that would I." " I put the case further,"
quoth Mr. Rich, " that there were an act of parlia-
ment that all the realm should take me for pope,
would you not then, Master More, take me for pope ? "
" For answer, Sir," quoth Sir Thomas More, " to
your first case, the parliament may well, Master Rich,
meddle with the state of temporal princes, but to
make answer to your other case, I will put you this
83
case : suppose the parliament would make a law that
God should not be God, would you then, Master
Rich, say that God were not God ? " " No, Sir,"
quoth he, "that would I not, sith no parliament
may make any such law.'* " No more," said Sir
Thomas More (as Master Rich reported him), " could
the parliament make the king supreme head of the
church." Upon whose only report was Sir Thomas
More indicted of high treason on the Statute to deny
the king to be Supreme Head of the Church, into
which indictment were put these heinous words,
maRciously y traitorously and diabolically.
WHEN Sir Thomas More was brought from
the Tower to Westminster Hall to answer
to the indictment, and at the King's Bench bar there
before the judges arraigned, he openly told them that
he would upon that indictment have abiden in law,
but that he thereby should have been driven to con-
fess of himself the matter indeed, that was the denial
of the king's supremacy, which he protested was
untrue. Wherefore he thereunto pleaded not guilty,
and so reserved unto himself advantage to be taken of
the body of the matter after verdict to avoid that
indictment : and moreover added, that if those only
odious terms, maliciously, traitorously, and diabolically,
were put out of the indictment, he saw therein
nothing justly to charge him. And for proof to the
jury that Sir Thomas More was guilty of this treason
Master Rich was called forth to give evidence unto
them upon his oath, as he did : against whom thus
sworn, Sir Thomas More began in this wise to say :
85
" If I were a man, my lords, that did not regard an
oath I needed not, as it is well known, in this place,
and at this time, nor in this case to stand here as an
accused person. And if this oath of yours, Master
Rich, be true, then I pray that I never see God in the
face, which I would not say, were it otherwise, to
win the whole world." Then recited he to the
court the discourse of all their communication in the
Tower according to the truth, and said : " In good
faith, Master Rich, I am sorrier for your perjury than
for mine own peril, and you shall understand that
neither I nor no man else to my knowledge, ever took
you to be a man of such credit as in any matter of
importance I or any other would at any time vouch-
safe to communicate with you. And I, as you know,
of no small while have been acquainted with you and
your conversation, who have known you from your
youth hitherto, for we long dwelled together in one
parish. Whereas yourself can tell I am sorry you
compel me to say you were esteemed very light of
your tongue, a great dicer, and of no commendable
fame. And so in your house at the Temple, where
hath been your chief bringing up, were you likewise
accounted. Can it therefore seem likely unto your
honourable lordships that I would in so weighty a
cause so unadvisedly overshoot myself as to trust
86
Master Rich, a man of me always reputed of so little
truth, as your lordships have heard, so far above my
sovereign lord the king, or any of his noble counsellors,
that I would unto him utter the secrets of my con-
science touching the king's Supremacy, the special
point and only mark at my hands so long sought for ?
A thing which I never did, nor never would, after
the statute thereof made, reveal unto the king's high-
ness himself or to any of his honourable counsellors,
as it is not unknown unto your honours at sundry and
several times sent from his grace's own person to the
Tower unto me for none other purpose. Can this
in your judgment, my lords, seem likely to be true ?
And if I had so done indeed, my lords, as Master
Rich hath sworn, seeing it was spoken but in familiar
secret talk, nothing affirming, and only in putting of
cases, without other displeasant circumstances, it
cannot justly be taken to be spoken maliciously : and
where there is no malice, there can be no offence.
And over this I can never think, my lords, that so
many worthy bishops, so many honourable person-
ages, and many other worshipful, virtuous, wise and
well learned men, as at the making of that law were
in the parliament assembled, ever meant to have any
man punished by death in whom there could be
found no malice, taking malitia for malevokntla : for if
87
malifia be generally taken for sin, no man is there
then that can excuse himself. Quia si dixerimus quod
peccatum non babemus, nosmet ipsos seducemus, et veritas
in nobis non est. And only this word maliciously is in
the statute material, as this term forcibly is in the
statute of forcible entries, by which statute if a man
enter peaceably, and put not his adversary out forcibly,
it is no offence, but if he put him out forcibly, then
by that statute it is an offence, and so shall he be
punished by this term forcibly. Besides this, the
manifold goodness of the king's highness himself,
that hath been so many ways my singular good lord
and gracious sovereign, and that hath so dearly loved
and trusted me, even at my very first coming into his
noble service, with the dignity of his honourable
Privy Council vouchsafing to admit me, and to offices
of great credit and worship most liberally advanced
me ; and finally with that weighty room of his
grace's high chancellor, the like whereof he never did
to temporal man before, next to his own royal person
the highest officer in this whole realm, so far above
my qualities or merits able and meet therefore of his
own incomparable benignity honoured and exalted
me ; by the space of twenty years and more, showing
his continual favour toward me, and (until at mine
own poor suit it pleased his highness giving me
88
license with his majesty's favour to bestow the residue
of my life, for the provision of my soul, in the service
of God, and of his special goodness thereof to dis-
charge and unburthen me) most benignly heaped
honours continually more and more upon me : all
this his highness' goodness, I say, so long thus bounti-
fully extended towards me, were in my mind, my
lords, matter sufficient to convince this slanderous
surmise by this man so wrongfully imagined against
me." Master Rich, seeing himself so disproved, and
his credit so foully defaced, caused Sir Richard South-
well and Master Palmer, who at the time of their
communication were in the chamber, to be sworn
what words had passed betwixt them. Whereupon
Master Palmer upon his depositions said, that "he
was so busy about trussing up Sir Thomas More's
books into a sack that he took no heed to their talk."
Sir Richard Southwell likewise said upon his deposi-
tion, that " because he was appointed only to look to
the conveyance of those books he gave no ear to
them." After this were there many other reasons,
not now in my remembrance, by Sir Thomas More
in his own defence alleged to the discredit of Master
Rich's foresaid evidence, and proof of the clearness of
his own conscience ; all which notwithstanding, the
jury found him guilty. And incontinent upon their
89
verdict the Lord Chancellor, for that mattei Chief
Commissioner, beginning to proceed in judgment
against him, Sir Thomas More said unto him : " My
Lord, when I was toward the law, the manner in
such case was to ask the prisoner before judgment
what he could say, why judgment should not be given
against him." Whereupon the Lord Chancellor,
staying his judgment, wherein he had partly proceeded,
demanded of him what he was able to say to the
contrary. Who then in this sort most humbly made
answer :
90
"TpORASMUCH, my Lord," quoth he, " as this
r indictment is grounded upon an act of parlia-
ment directly repugnant to the laws of God and His
holy Church, the supreme government of which, or
any part thereof, may no temporal prince presume by
any law to take upon him, as rightfully belonging to
the see of Rome, a spiritual pre-eminence by the
mouth of our Saviour himself, personally present
upon the earth, only to Saint Peter and his successors,
bishops of the same see, by special prerogative
granted ; it is therefore in law, amongst Christian
men, insufficient to charge any Christian man."
And for proof thereof, like as amongst divers other
reasons and authorities, he declared that this realm,
being but a member and small part of the church,
might not make a particular law disagreeable with the
general law of Christ's universal Catholic Church, no
more than the City of London, being but one poor
member in respect of the whole realm, might make a
9 1
law against an act of parliament to bind the whole
realm : so further showed he that it was both
contrary to the laws and statutes of this our land yet
unrepealed, as they might evidently perceive in
MAGNA CHARTA, quod Ecclesia Anglicana libera sit, et
habeat omnla jura sua integi'a, et libertafes suas illcesas,
and also contrary to that sacred oath which the king's
highness himself, and every other Christian prince,
always with great solemnity received at their corona-
tions. Alleging, moreover, that no more might this
realm of England refuse obedience to the See of
Rome, than might the child refuse obedience to his
natural father. For, as St. Paul said to the Corinth-
ians, I have regenerated you, my children in Christ,
so might St. Gregory, Pope of Rome (of whom,
by St. Augustine his messenger, we first received
the Christian faith) of us Englishmen truly say,
You are my children, because I have under Christ
given to you everlasting salvation (a far higher and
better inheritance than any carnal father can leave to
his child), and by regeneration have made you
spiritual children in Christ. Then was it by the
Lord Chancellor thereunto answered, that, " seeing
all the bishops, universities, and best learned men of
the realm had to this act agreed, it was much
marvelled that he alone against them all would so
92
stiffly stick thereat, and so vehemently argue there-
against." To that Sir Thomas More replied, saying :
" If the number of bishops and universities be so
material as your lordship seemeth to take it, then see
I little cause, my lord, why that thing in my con-
science should make any change. For I nothing
doubt but that, though not in this realm, yet in
Christendom about, of these well learned bishops and
virtuous men that are yet alive, they be not the fewer
part that be of my mind therein. But if I should
speak of those that already be dead, of whom many
be now holy saints in heaven, I am very sure it is the
far, far greater part of them that all the while they
lived thought in this case that way that I now think ;
and therefore am I not bound, my lord, to conform
my conscience to the council of one realm, against
the general council of Christendom."
93
NOW when Sir Thomas More for the avoiding
of the indictment had taken as many exceptions
as he thought meet, and many more reasons than
I can now remember alleged, the Lord Chancellor,
loth to have the burden of the judgment wholly to
depend upon himself, there openly asked the advice
of the Lord Fitzjames, then Lord Chief Justice of
the King's Bench, and joined in commission with
him, whether this indictment were sufficient or not.
Who, like a wise man answered, "My Lords all,
by St. Julian " (that was ever his oath) " I must
needs confess that if the act of parliament be not
unlawful, then is the indictment in my conscience
not insufficient." Whereupon the Lord Chancellor
said to the rest of the Lords : " Lo, my Lords, lo !
you hear what my Lord Chief Justice saith," and so
immediately gave judgment against him. After
which ended, the commissioners yet further cour-
teously offered him, if he had anything else to allege
94
for his defence, to grant him favourable audience.
Who answered : " More have I not to say, my Lords,
but that like as the blessed apostle St. Paul, as we
read in the Acts of the Apostles, was present and
consented to the death of St. Stephen, and kept their
clothes that stoned him to death, and yet be they
now both twain holy saints in heaven, and shall con-
tinue there friends for ever, so I verily trust, and
shall therefore right heartily pray, that though your
lordships have now here in earth been judges to
my condemnation, we may yet hereafter in heaven
merrily all meet together to everlasting salvation."'
Thus much touching Sir Thomas More's arraignment,
being not there present myself, have I by the credible
report of the Right Worshipful Sir Anthony Saint-
leger, and partly of Richard Haywood, and John
Webb, gentlemen, with others of good credit at the
hearing thereof present themselves, as far forth as my
poor wit and memory would serve me, here truly
rehearsed unto you. Now, after his arraignment,
departed he from the bar to the Tower again, led by
Sir William Kingston, a tall, strong, and comely
knight, Constable of the Tower, and his very dear
friend. Who when he had brought him from West-
minster to the Old Swan towards the Tower, there
with a heavy heart, the tears running down his cheeks,
95
bade him farewell. Sir Thomas More, seeing him
so sorrowful, comforted him with as good words as
he could, saying : " Good Master Kingston, trouble
not yourself, but be of good cheer : for 1 will pray
for you and my good lady your wife, that we may
meet in heaven together, where we shall be merry for
ever and ever." Soon after Sir William Kingston,
talking with me of Sir Thomas More, said : " In
good faith, Mr. Roper, I was ashamed of myself that
at my departing from your father I found my heart
so feeble and his so strong, that he was fain to com-
fort me that should rather have comforted him."
When Sir Thomas More came from Westminster to
the Tower-ward again, his daughter, my wife, de-
sirous to see her father, whom she thought she would
never see in this world after, and also to have his
final blessing, gave attendance about the Tower
Wharf, where she knew he should pass by, before
he could enter into the Tower. There tarrying his
coming, as soon as she saw him, after his blessing
upon her knees reverently received, she hasting to-
wards him, without consideration or care of herself,
pressing in amongst the midst of the throng and
company of the guard, that with halberds and bills
went round about him, hastily ran to him, and there
openly in sight ot them all, embraced him, and took
him about the neck and kissed him. Who well
liking her most natural and dear daughterly affection
towards him, gave her his fatherly blessing, and many
godly words of comfort besides. From whom after
she was departed, she not satisfied with the former
sight of her dear father, and like one that had for-
gotten herself, being all ravished with the entire love
of her dear father, having respect neither to herself,
nor to the press of people and multitude that were
there about him, suddenly turned back again, ran to
him as before, took him about the neck, and divers
times kissed him most lovingly ; and at last, with a
full and heavy heart, was fain to depart from him :
the beholding whereof was to many of them that were
present thereat so lamentable, that it made them for
very sorrow thereof to weep and mourn.
T.M. 97
SO remained Sir Thomas More in the Tower,
more than a seven-night after his judgment.
From whence, the day before he suffered, he sent
his shirt of hair, not willing to have it seen, to my
wife, his dearly beloved daughter, and a letter written
with a coal (contained in the foresaid book of his
works), plainly expressing the fervent desire he had
to suffer on the morrow, in these words following :
" I cumber you, good Margret, much, but would be
sorry if it should be any longer than to-morrow.
For to-morrow is St. Thomas even, and the Utas of St.
Peter, and therefore to-morrow I long to go to God :
it were a day very meet and convenient for me.
Dear Megg, I never liked your manner better towards
me than when you kissed me last. For I like when
daughterly love and dear charity hath no leisure to
look to worldly courtesy." And so upon the next
morrow, being Tuesday, Saint Thomas his eve, and
the Utas of Saint Peter, in the year of our Lord
I 535 according as he in his letter the day before
had wished, early in the morning came to him Sir
Thomas Pope, his singular good friend, on message
from the king and his council, that he should before
nine of the clock of the same morning suffer death ;
and that, therefore, he should forthwith prepare
himself thereto. " Master Pope," quoth Sir Thomas
More, " for your good tidings I heartily thank you.
I have been always much bounden to the king's high-
ness for the benefits and honours that he had still
from time to time most bountifully heaped upon
me ; and yet more bounden am I to his grace for
putting me into this place, where I have had con-
venient time and space to have remembrance of my
end. And so help me God, most of all, Master
Pope, am I bounden to his highness that it pleaseth
him so shortly to rid me out of the miseries of this
wretched world, and therefore will I not fail earnestly
to pray for his grace, both here, and also in the
world to come." " The king's pleasure is farther,"
quoth Master Pope, " that at your execution you
shall not use many words." " Master Pope," quoth
he, " you do well to give me warning of his grace's
pleasure, for otherwise, at that time, had I purposed
somewhat to have spoken ; but of no matter wherewith
his grace, or any other, should have had cause to be
99
offended. Nevertheless, whatsoever I intended, I
am ready obediently to conform myself to his grace's
commandment ; and I beseech you, good Master
Pope, to be a mean to his highness, that my daughter
Margaret may be at my burial." "The king is
content already," quoth Master Pope, "that your
wife, children and other friends shall have liberty to
be present thereat." "Oh, how much beholden
then," said Sir Thomas More, " am I unto his grace,
that unto my poor burial vouchsafeth to have so
gracious consideration ! " Wherewithal Master Pope,
taking his leave of him, could not refrain from weep-
ing. Which Sir Thomas More perceiving, com-
forted him in this wise : " Quiet yourself, good
Master Pope, and be not discomforted, for I trust
that we shall once in heaven see each other full
merrily, where we shall be sure to live and love
together, in joyful bliss eternally." ^ Upon whose
departure, Sir Thomas More, as one that had been
invited to some solemn feast, changed himself into his
best apparel. ' Which Master Lieutenant espying,
advised him to put it off, saying, that he that should
have it was but a javill. "What, Master Lieu-
tenant ? " quoth he, " shall I account him a javill
that will do me this day so singular a benefit ? Nay,
I assure you, were it cloth of gold, I should think it
IOO
THE LIBRARY
well bestowed on him, as Saint Cyprian did, who
gave his executioner thirty pieces of gold." And
albeit, at length, through Master Lieutenant's im-
portunate persuasion, he altered his apparel, yet,
after the example of the holy Martyr St. Cyprian,
did he, of that little money that was left him send an
angel of gold to his executioner. And so was he by
Master Lieutenant brought out of the Tower, and
from thence led towards the place of execution.
Where, going up the scaffold, which was so weak that
it was ready to fall, he said merrily to the Lieutenant :
" I pray you, Master Lieutenant, see me safe up, and
for my coming down let me shift for myself." Then
desired he all the people thereabout to pray for him,
and to bear witness with him, that he should now
there suffer death in and for the faith of the holy
Catholic Church. Which done, he kneeled down,
and, after his prayers said, turned to the executioner
with a cheerful countenance, and said unto him :
" Pluck up thy spirits, man, and be not afraid to do
thine office : my neck is very short, take heed, there-
fore, thou strike not awry, for saving of thine honesty."
So passed Sir Thomas More out of this world to
God, upon the very same day which he most desired.
Soon after his death came intelligence thereof to
the Emperor Charles. Whereupon he sent for Sir
101
Thomas Eliott, our English ambassador, and said to
him : " My Lord ambassador, we understand that
the king your master hath put his faithful servant, and
grave wise councillor, Sir Thomas More, to death."
Whereupon Sir Thomas Eliott answered that " he
understood nothing thereof." "Well," said the
Emperor, " it is too true : and this will we say, that
had we been master of such a servant, of whose
doings ourselves have had these many years no small
experience, we would rather have lost the best city of
our dominions, than have lost such a worthy coun-
cillor." Which matter was, by the same Sir Thomas
Eliott to myself, to my wife, to Master Clement and
his wife, to Master John Heywood and his wife, and
unto divers others his friends accordingly reported.
102
THE LETTERS OF
SIR THOMAS MORE
TO HIS DAUGHTER
LETTER I
Sir THOMAS MORE'S Letter to bis Daughter Mrs.
MARGARET ROPER on his first being made Prisoner in
the Tower of LONDON, on Friday the I Jtb day of
April, 1534. xxv. Hen, %tk.
WHEN I was before the Lords at Lambeth, I was the
first that was called in, albeit that Master Doctor,
the vicar of Croydon, was come before me, and divers
others. After the cause of my sending for, declared
unto me, (whereof I somewhat marvelled in my mind,
considering that they sent for no more temporal men
but me) I desired the sight of the oath, which they
showed me under the great seal. Then desired I
the sight of the act of the succession, which was
delivered me in a printed roll. After which read
secretly by myself, and the oath considered with the
act, I showed unto them, that my purpose was not
to put any fault, either in the act or any man that
made it, or in the oath or any man that sware it, nor
to condemn the conscience of any other man. But
105
as for myself in good faith my conscience so moved
me in the matter, that though I would not deny
to swear to the succession, yet unto that oath that
there was offered me, I could not swear without the
jeoparding of my soul to perpetual damnation. And
that if they doubted whether I did refuse the oath
only for the grudge of my conscience, or for any
other fantasy, I was ready therein to satisfy them by
mine oath. Which if they trusted not, what should
they be the better to give me any oath. And if
they trusted that I would therein swear true, then
trusted I that of their goodness they would not move
me to swear the oath that they offered me, perceiv-
ing that for to swear it was against my conscience.
Unto this my Lord Chancellor said, that they all
were very sorry to hear me say thus, and see me thus
refuse the oath. And they said all, that on their
faith I was the very first that ever refused it ; which
would cause the king's highness to conceive great
suspicion of me, and great indignation toward me.
And therewith they showed me the roll, and let me
see the names of the Lords and the Commons which
had sworn and subscribed their names already.
Which notwithstanding when they saw that I refused
to swear the same myself, not blaming any other
man that had sworn, I was in conclusion commanded
106
to go down into the garden. And thereupon I tar-
ried in the old burned chamber that looketh into the
garden, and would not go down because of the heat.
In that tims saw I Master Doctor Latimer come
into the garden, and there walked he with divers
other doctors and chaplains of my Lord of Canter-
bury. And very merry I saw him, for he laughed,
and took one or twain about the neck so handsomely,
that if they had been women, I would have weened
he had been waxen wanton. After that came Master
Doctor Wilson forth from the Lords, and was with
two gentlemen brought by me, and gentlemanly sent
straight unto the Tower. What time my Lord of
Rochester was called in before them, that can I not
tell. But at night I heard that he had been before
them, but where he remained that night, and so
forth, till he was sent hither, I never heard. I heard
also that Master Vicar of Croydon, and all the rem-
nant of the priests of London that were sent for,
were sworn ; and that they had such favour at the
Council's hand, that they were not lingered, nor
made to dance any long attendance to their travail
and cost, as suitors were sometime wont to be, but
were sped apace to their great comfort ; so far forth
that Master Vicar of Croydon, either for gladness or
for dryness, or else that it might be seen, Quod ilk notus
107
erat pontifici, went to my Lord's buttery bar, and
called for drink, and drank valde famillanter. When
they had played their pageant, and were gone out of
the place, then was I called in again. And then was
it declared unto me what a number had sworn, ever
since I went aside, gladly without any sticking.
Wherein I laid no blame in no man, but for my
own self answered as before. Now as well before as
then, they somewhat laid unto me for obstinacy, that
whereas before, since I refused to swear, I would not
declare any special part of that oath that grudged
my conscience, and open the cause wherefore. For
thereunto I had said unto them, that I feared lest
the king's highness would, as they said, take dis-
pleasure enough toward me, for the only refusal of
the oath. And that if I should open and disclose
the causes why, I should therewith but further exas-
perate his highness, which I would in no wise do,
but rather would I abide all the danger and harm
that might come toward me, than give his highness
any occasion of further displeasure, than the offering
of the oath unto me of pure necessity constrained
me. Howbeit when they divers times imputed this
to me for stubbornness and obstinacy, that I would
neither swear the oath, nor yet declare the causes
why I declined thus far toward them, that rather
108
than I would be accounted for obstinate, I would
upon the king's gracious licence, or rather his such
commandment had, as might be my sufficient war-
rant, that my declaration should not offend his high-
ness, nor put me in the danger of any of his statutes,
I would be content to declare the causes in writing,
and over that to give an oath in the beginning that
if I might find those causes by any man in such wise
answered, as I might think mine own conscience
satisfied, I would after that with all mine heart swear
the principal oath to. To this I was answered, that
though the king would give me licence under his
letters patent, yet would it not serve against the
statute. Whereto I said, that yet if I had them, I
would stand unto the trust of his honour at my peril
for the remnant. But yet, thinketh me, Lo, that if
I may not declare the causes without peril, then to
leave them undeclared is no obstinacy. My Lord of
Canterbury taking hold upon that that I said, that I
condemned not the consciences of them that sware,
said unto me that it appeared well, that I did not
take it for a very sure thing and a certain, that I
might not lawfully swear it, but rather as a thing un-
certain and doubtful. But then (said my Lord) you
know for a certainty, and a thing without doubt,
that you be bounden to obey your sovereign lord your
109
king. And therefore are ye bounden to leave of the
doubt of your unsure conscience in refusing the oath,
and take the sure way in obeying of your prince, and
swear it. Now all was it so, that in mine own mind
methought myself not concluded, yet this argument
seemed me suddenly so subtle, and namely with such
authority coming out of so noble a prelate's mouth,
that I could again answer nothing thereto but only
that I thought myself I might not well do so, because
that in my conscience this was one of the cases in
which I was bounden that I should not obey my
prince, sith that whatsoever other folk thought in
the matter (whose conscience or learning I would
not condemn nor take upon me to judge), yet in my
conscience the truth seemed on the tother side.
Wherein I had not informed my conscience neither
suddenly nor slightly, but by long leisure and dili-
gent search for the matter. And of truth if that
reason may conclude, then have we a ready way to
avoid all perplexities. For in whatsoever matter the
doctors stand in great doubt, the king's command-
ment given upon whitherside he list, soyleth all the
doubts. Then said my Lord of Westminster to me,
that howsoever the matter seemed unto mine own
mind, I had cause to fear that mine own mind was
erroneous, when I see the Great Council of the realm
no
determine of my mind the contrary, and that there-
fore I ought to change my conscience. To that I
answered, that if there were no more but myself
upon my side, and the whole parliament upon the
tother, I would be sore afraid to lean to mine own
mind only against so many. But on the other side,
if it so be that in some things, for which I refuse the
oath, I have (as I think I have) upon my part as great
a Council and a greater too, I am not then bounden
to change my conscience and conform it to the Council
of one realm, against the general Council of Christen-
dom. Upon this Master Secretary, as he that ten-
derly favoureth me, said and sware a great oath, that
he had sooner that his own only son (which is of
truth a goodly young gentleman, and shall I trust
come to much worship) had lost his head than that
I should thus have refused the oath. For surely the
king's highness would now conceive a great suspicion
against me, and think that the matter of the nun of
Canterbury was all contrived by my drift. To
which I said that the contrary was true and well
known. And whatsoever should mishap me, it lay
not in my power to help it without the peril of
my soul. Then did my Lord Chancellor repeat
before me my refusal unto Master Secretary, as to
him that was going unto the king's grace. And in
III
the rehearsing, his Lordship repeated again, that I
denied not but was content to swear unto the suc-
cession. Whereunto I said, that as for that point I
would be content, so that I might see my oath in
that point so framed in such a manner as might
stand with my conscience. Then said my Lord :
Marry, Master Secretary, mark that too, that he will
not swear that neither, but under some certain man-
ner. Verily, no, my Lord, quoth I, but that I will
see it made in such wise first, as I shall myself see,
that I shall neither be foresworn, nor swear against
my conscience. Surely as to swear to the succession
I see no peril. But I thought and think it reason
that to mine own oath I look well myself, and be of
counsel also in the fashion, and never intended to
swear for a piece, and set my hand to the whole oath.
Howbeit, as help me God, as touching the whole
oath I never withdrew any man from it, nor never
advised any to refuse it, nor never put, nor will put,
any scruple in any man's head, but leave every man
to his own conscience. And me thinketh in good
faith that so were it good reason that every man
should leave me to mine.
12
LETTER It
In August, In the Tear of our Lord 1534, and in the
twenty-sixth year of the Reign of King Henry the
Eighth, the Lady ALICE ALINGTON (Wife to Sir GILES
ALINGTON, Knight, and Daughter to Sir Thomas More**
second and last Wife] wrote a letter to Mistress MARGARET
ROPER, the Copy whereof here follow eth.
SISTER ROPER, with all my heart, I recommend me
unto you, thanking you for all kindness. The cause
of my writing at this time is, to show you that at my
coming home, within two hours after, my Lord
Chancellor did come to take a course at a buck in our
park, the which was to my husband a great comfort,
that it would please him so to do. Then when he
had taken his pleasure and killed his deer, he went to
Sir Thomas Barnston's to bed : where I was the next
day with him at his desire, the which I could not say
nay to, for methought he did bid me heartily : and
most especially because I would speak to him for my
father. And when I saw my time, I did desire him
T.M. 113 I
as humbly as I could that he would (as I have heard
say that he hath been) be still good lord unto my
father. First he answered me that he would be as
glad to do for him as for his father, and that (he
said) did appear very well when the matter of the
nun was laid to his charge. And as for this other
matter, he marvelled that my father is so obstinate
in his own conceit, in that everybody went forth
withal, save only the blind bishop and he. And in
good faith (said my Lord) I am very glad that I
have no learning, but in a few of ^Esop's fables, of the
which I shall tell you one. There was a country in
the which there were almost none but fools, saving a
few which were wise, and they by their wisdom knew
that there should fall a great rain, the which should
make all them fools, that should be fouled or wet
therewith. They, seeing that, made them caves
under the ground, till all the rain was past. Then
they came forth, thinking to make the fools do what
they list, and to rule them as they would. But the
fools would none of that, but would have the rule
themselves for all their craft. And when the wise
men saw that they could not obtain their purpose
they wished that they had been in the rain, and had
defiled their clothes with them. When this tale was
told my lord did laugh very merrily. Then I said to
114
him, that for all his merry fable I did put no doubts
but that he would be good lord unto my father when
he saw his time, He said, I would not have your
father so scrupulous of his conscience. And then he
told me another fable of a Lion, an Ass and a Wolf,
and of their confession. First the Lion confessed
that he had devoured all the beasts he could come by.
His confessor assoyled him because he was a king, and
also it was his nature so to do. Then came the poor
Ass, and said that he took but one straw out of his
master's shoe for hunger, by the means whereof he
thought that his master did take cold. His confessor
could not assoil this great trespass but by and bye
sent him to the bishop. Then came the Wolf and
made his confession, and he was straightly commanded
that he should not pass sixpence at a meal. But when
the said wolf had used this diet a little while, he
waxed very hungry, in so much, that on a day when
he saw a cow with her calf come by him, he said to
himself, I am very hungry, and fain would I eat, but
that I am bound by my ghostly father. Notwith-
standing that, my conscience shall judge me. And
then, if that be so, then shall my conscience be thus,
that the cow doth seem to me now but worth a
groat. And then if the cow be but worth a groat,
then is the calf but worth two pence ; so did the
wolf eat both the cow and the calf. Now, my good
sister, hath not my lord told me two pretty fables ?
In good faith they pleased me nothing, nor I wist
not what to say, for I was abashed of his answer.
And I see no better suit than to Almighty God, for
He is the comforter of all sorrows, and will not fail to
send His comfort to His servants when they have
most need. Thus fare ye well, my own good sister.
Written the Monday after Saint Laurence, in haste,
Your Sister,
ALICE ALINGTON.
116
LETTER III
When Mistress ROPER bad received this Letter, she, at
her next repair to her father in the Tower, showed
him this Letter. And what communication was there-
upon between her Father and her, ye shall perceive by
an Answer here following (as written to the Lady
ALINGTON). But whether this answer were written
by Sir THOMAS MORE in his Daughter ROPER'S
name, or by herself, it is not certainly known.
WHEN I came next unto my father after, me thought
it both convenient and necessary, to show him your
letter convenient, that he might thereby see your
loving labour taken for him ; necessary, that sith he
might perceive thereby, that if he stand still in this
scruple of his conscience, (as it is at the least wise
called by many that are his friends and wife) all his
friends that seem most able to do him good, either
shall finally forsake him, or peradventure not be able
indeed to do him any good at all. And for these
117
causes, at my next being with him after your letter
received, when I had a while talked with him, first of
his diseases both in his breast of old, and his reins
now, by reason of gravel and stone, and of the cramp
also that divers nights grippeth him in his legs, and
that I found by hi words that they were not much
increased, but continued after their manner that they
did before, sometime very sore and sometime little
grief, and that at that time I found him out of pain,
and as one in his case might, meetly well-minded,
after our seven psalms and the litany said, to sit and
talk and be merry, beginning first with other things,
of the good comfort of my mother, and the good
order of my brother, and all my sisters, disposing
themselves every day more and more to set little by
the world, and draw more and more to God, and
that his household, his neighbours, and other good
friends abroad, diligently remembered him in their
prayers, I added unto this ; I pray God, good father,
that their prayers, and ours, and your own therewith,
may purchase of God the grace that you may in this
great matter (for which you stand in this trouble, and
for your trouble all we also that love you) take such a
way by time, as standing with the pleasure of God,
may content and please the king, whom ye have
always founden so singularly gracious unto you, that if
nS
ye should stiffly refuse to do the thing that were his
pleasure, which, God not displeased, you might do,
(as many great, wise, and well-learned men, say that
in this thing you may), it would both be a great blot
in your worship in every wise man's opinion, and as
myself have heard some say (such as yourself have
always taken for well-learned and good) a peril unto
your soul also. But as for that point (father) will I
not be bold to dispute upon, since I trust in God,
and your good mind, that ye will look surely thereto.
And your learning I know for such, that I wot well
you can. But one thing is there, which I and other
your friends find and perceive abroad, which, but if it
be showed you, you may peradventure to your great
peril mistake, and hope for less harm (for as for good
I wot well in this world of this matter ye look for
none) than, I sore fear me, shall be likely to fall to
you. For I assure you, father, I have received a letter
of late from my sister Allngton^ by which I see well,
that if ye change not your mind, you are likely to
lose all those friends that are able to do you any good.
Or if ye lese not their good wills, you shall at the
least wise lese the effect thereof, for any good that
they shall be able to do you. With this my father
smiled upon me and said : What, mistress Eve, (as I
called you when you came first), hath my daughter
119
Alington played the serpent with you, and with a letter
set you awork to come tempt your father again, and
for the favour that you bear him, labour to make him
swear against his conscience, and so send him to the
devil ? And after that, he looked sadly again, and
earnestly said unto me, daughter Margaret, we two
have talked of this thing ofter than twice or thrice.
And the same tale, in effect, that you tell me now
therein, and the same fear too, have you twice told
me before, and I have twice answered you too, that
in this matter if it were possible for me to do the
thing that might content the king's grace, and God
therewith not offended, then hath no man taken this
oath already more gladly than I would do ; as he that
reckoneth himself more deeply bounden unto the king's
highness, for his most singular bounty, many ways
showed and declared, than any of them all beside.
But sith standing my conscience I can in no wise do
it, and that for the instruction of my conscience in
the matter, I have not slightly looked, but by many
years (Studied, and advisedly considered, and never
could yet see nor hear that thing, nor I think I never
shall, that could induce mine own mind to think
otherwise than I do, I have no manner remedy, but
God hath given me to that strait, that either I must
deadly displease Him, or abide any worldly harm that
120
He shall for mine other sins, under name of this
thing, suffer to fall upon me. Whereof (as I before
this have told you too) I have, ere I came here, not left
unbethought nor unconsidered, the very most and the
uttermost that can by possibility fall. And albeit
that I know mine own frailty full well, and the
natural faintness of mine own heart, yet if I had
not trusted that God should give me strength rather
to endure all things, than offend Him by swearing un-
godly against mine own conscience, you may be very
sure I would not have come here. And sith I look,
in this matter, but only unto God, it maketh me little
matter, though men call it as it please them, and say
it is no conscience, but a foolish scruple. At this
word I took a good occasion, and said unto him thus :
In good faith, father, for my part, I neither do, nor it
cannot become me, either to mistrust your good mind
or your learning. But because you speak of that that
some call it but a scruple, I assure you you shall see
by my sister's letter, that one, of the greatest estates in
this realm, and a man learned too, and (as I dare say
yourself shall think when you know him, and as you
have already right effectually proved him) your tender
friend and very special good lord, accounteth your con-
science in this matter, for a right simple scruple. And
you may be sure he saith it of good mind, and hath no
121
little cause. For he saith, that where you say your
conscience moveth you to this, all the nobles of this
realm, and almost all other men too, go boldly forth
with the contrary, and stick not thereat, save only
yourself and one other man : whom though he be
right good, and very well learned too, yet would I
ween few that love you, give you the counsel against
all other men to lean to his mind alone. And with
this word I took him your letter, that he might see
that my words were not feigned, but spoken of his
mouth whom he much loveth and esteemeth highly.
Thereupon he read over your letter. And when he
came to the end, he began it afresh and read over
again. And in the reading he made no manner
haste, but advised it leisurely, and pointed every word.
And after that he paused, and then thus he said.
Forsooth, daughter Margaret, I find my daughter
Allngton such as I have ever found her, and I trust
ever shall, as naturally minding me as you that are
mine own. Howbeit, her take I verily for mine own
too, since I have married her mother, and brought up
her of a child, as I have brought up you, in other
things and in learning both, wherein I thank God she
findetb now some fruit, and bringeth her own up very
virtuously and well. Whereof God, I thank Him,
hath sent her good store, our Lord preserve them and
122
send her much joy of them, and my good son her
gentle husband too, and have mercy on the soul of
mine other good son, her first : I am daily bedesman
(and so write her) for them all. In this matter she
has used herself like herself, wisely, and like a very
daughter toward me ; and in the end of her letter,
giveth as good counsel as any man (that wit hath) would
wish, God give me grace to follow it, and God
reward her for it. Now, daughter Margaret, as for
my lord, I not only think, but have also found it,
that he is undoubtedly my singular good lord. And
in mine other business, concerning the sely nun, as my
cause was good and clear, so was he my good lord
therein, and Mr. Secretary my good master too. For
which I shall never cease to be faithful bedesman for
them both, and daily do I, by my troth, pray
for them as I pray for myself. And whensoever
it should happen (which I trust in God shall
never happen) that I be found other than a true
man to my prince, let them never favour me, neither
of them both, nor of truth no more it could become
them so to do. But in this matter, Megg, to tell
the truth between thee and me, my lord's ^Esop's
fables do not greatly move me. But as his wisdom,
for his pastime, told them merely to my one
daughter, so shall I, for my pastime, answer them to
123
thee, Mfgg, that art mine other. The first fable, of
the rain that washed away all their wits that stood
abroad when it fell, I have heard oft ere this : it
was a tale so often told among the king's Council by
my Lord Cardinal, when his grace was chancellor,
that I cannot lightly forget it. For of truth in times
past, when variance began to fall between the
Emperor and the French king, in such wise that
they were likely, and did indeed, fall together at war,
and that there were in the Council here sometimes
sundry opinions, in which some were of the mind
that they thought it wisdom, that we should sit still
and let them alone : but evermore against that way,
my lord used this fable of those wise men, that
because they would not be washed with the rain that
should make all the people fools, went themselves in
caves and hid them under the ground. But when
the rain had once made all the remnant fools, and
that they came out of their caves and would utter
their wisdom, the fools agreed together against them,
and there all to bet them. And so said his grace,
that if we would be so wise that we would sit in
peace while the fools fought, they would not fail
after to make peace and agree, and fall at length all
upon us. I will not dispute upon his grace's coun-
sel, and I trust we never made war, but as reason
124
would. But yet this fable, for his part, did in his
days help the king and the realm to spend many a
fair penny. But that grace is passed, and his grace
is gone, our Lord assoil his soul. And, therefore,
shall I now come to this ^Esop's fable, as my Lord
full merrily laid it forth for me. If those wise men,
Meggy when the rain was gone at their coming
abroad, where they found all men fools, wished
themselves fools too, because they could not rule
them, then seemeth it that the foolish rain was so
sore a shower, that even through the ground it sank
into their caves, and poured down upon their heads,
and wet them to the skin, and made them more
noddies than them that stood abroad. For if they
had had any wit, they might well see, that though
they had been fools too, that thing would not have
sufficed to make them the rulers over the other fools,
no more than the tother fools over them : and of so
many fools all might not be rulers. Now when
they longed so sore to bear a rule among fools, that
so they so might, they would be glad to lese their wit
and be fools too, the foolish rain had washed them
meetly well. Howbeit to say the truth, before the
rain came, if they thought that all the remnant
should turn into fools, then either were so foolish
that they would, or so mad to think that they
125
should, so few rule so many fools, and had not so
much wit, as to consider that there are none so
unruly as they that lack wit and are fools, then were
these wise men stark fools before the rain came.
Howbeit, daughter Roper, whom my Lord here
taketh for the wise men, and whom he meaneth to
be fools, I cannot very well guess, I cannot read well
such riddles. For as Davus saith in Terence : Non
sum (Edipus. I may say you wot well : Non sum
(Edipus, sed Morus, which name of mine what it
signifieth in Greek, I need not tell you. But I
trust my Lord reckoneth me among the fools, and so
reckoneth I myself, as my name is in Greek. And
I find, I thank God, causes not a few, wherefore I
so should in every deed. But surely, among those
that long to be rulers, God and mine own conscience
clearly knoweth, that no man may truly number
and reckon me. And I ween each other man's
conscience can tell himself the same, since it is so
well known that of the king's great goodness, I was
one of the greatest rulers in this noble realm, and
that at mine own great labour by his great goodness
discharged. But whomsoever my lord mean for the
wise men, and whomsoever his lordship take for the
fools, and whosoever long for the rule, and whoso-
ever long for none, I beseech our Lord make us all
126
so wise as that we may every man here so wisely rule
ourself, in this time of tears, this vale of misery, this
simple wretched world (in which, as Boece saith, one
man to be proud that he beareth rule over other
men, is much like as one mouse would be proud to
bear a rule over other mice in a barn), God, I say,
give us the grace so wisely to rule ourself here, that
when we shall hence in haste to meet the great
spouse, we be not taken sleepers, and for lack of light
in our lamps, shut out of heaven among the five foolish
virgins. The second fable, Marget, seemeth not
to be ^Esop's. For by that the matter goeth all
upon confession, it seemeth to be feigned since
Christendom began. For in Greece, before Christ's
days, they used not confession no more the men then,
than the beasts now. And ^Esop was a Greek, and died
long ere Christ was born. But what ? who made it,
maketh but little matter. Nor I envy not that JEsop
hath the name. But surely it is somewhat too subtle
for me. For when his lordship understandeth by the
lion, and the wolf, which both twain confessed them-
selves of ravin and devouring of all that came to their
hands, and the t'one enlarged his conscience at his
pleasure in the construction of his penance, nor
whom by the good discreet confessor that enjoined
the t'one a little penance, and the tother none at all,
127
and sent the poor ass to the bishop, of all these
things can I nothing tell. But by the foolish
scrupulous ass,, that had so sore a conscience for the
taking of a straw for hunger out of his master's shoe,
my lord's other words of my scruple declare, that
his lordship merely meant that by me : signifying
(as it seemeth by that similitude), that of oversight
and folly, my scrupulous conscience taketh for a great
perilous thing toward my soul, if I should swear this
oath, which thing, as his lordship thinketh, were
indeed but a trifle. And I suppose well, Margaret,
as you told me right now, that so thinketh many
more beside, as well spiritual as temporal, and that
even of those, that for their learning and their virtue,
myself not a little esteemed. And yet albeit that I
suppose this to be true, yet believe I not even very
surely, that every man so thinketh that so saith.
But though they did, daughter, that would not make
much to me, not though I should see my Lord of
Rochester say the same, and swear the oath himself
before me too. For whereas you told me right now,
that such as love me, would not advise me, that
against all other men, I should lean into his mind
alone, verily, daughter, no more I do. For albeit
that of very truth, I have him in that reverent esti-
mation, that I reckon in this realm no one man, in
128
wisdom, learning, and long approved virtue together,
meet to be matched and compared with him, yet that
in this matter I was not led by him, very well and
plain appeareth, both in that I refused the oath
before it was offered him, and in that also that his
lordship was content to have sworn of that oath (as I
perceived since by you when you moved me to the
same) either somewhat more, or in some other
manner than ever I minded to do. Verily, daughter,
I never intend (God being my good Lord) to pin my
soul at another man's back, not even the best man
that I know this day living : for I know not whither
he may hap to carry it. There is no man living, of
whom while he liveth, I may make myself sure.
Some may do for favour, and some may do for fear,
and so might they carry my soul a wrong way.
And some might hap to frame himself a conscience,
and think that while he did it for fear, God would
forgive it. And some may peradventure think that
they will repent, and be shriven thereof, and that so
shall God remit it them. And some may be perad-
venture of the mind, that if they say one thing
and think the while the contrary, God more
regardeth their heart than their tongue, and that
therefore their oath goeth upon that they think, and
not upon that they say : as a woman reasoned once,
T.M. 129 K
I trow, daughter, you were by. But in good faith,
Margetj I can use no such ways in so great a matter :
but like as if mine own conscience served me, I
would riot let to do it though other men refused, so
though others refuse it not, I dare not do it, mine
own conscience standing against it. If I had (as I
told you) looked but lightly for the matter, I should
have cause to fear. But now have I so looked for it,
and so long, that I purpose at the least wise to have
no less regard unto my soul, than at once a poor
honest man of the country, that was called Company.
And with this he told me a tale, I ween I can scant
tell it you again, because it hangeth upon some terms
and ceremonies of the law. But as far as I can call
to mind, my father's tale was this, that there is a
court belonging, of course, unto every fair, to do
justice in such things as happen within the same.
This court hath a pretty fond name, but I cannot
happen on it : but it beginneth with a " Pie," and the
remnant goeth much like the name of a knight that
I have known, I wis, and I trow you too, for he hath
been at my father's oft ere this, at such time as you
were there, a meetly tall black man, his name was
Sir William Pounder. But, tut ! let the name of the
court for this once, or call it if ye will a " court of Pie
Sir- William-Pounder." But this was the matter, lo,
130
that upon a time, at such a court holden at Bartholomew
Fair, there was an escheator of London that had
arrested a man that was outlawed, and had seized
his goods that he had brought into the fair, tolling
him out of the fair by a train. The man that was
arrested, and his goods seized, was a northern man,
which, by his friends, made the escheator within the
Fair to be arrested upon an action, I wot ne'er what,
and so was he brought before the judge, of the court
of " Pie Sir- William-Pounder." And at the last that
that matter came to a certain ceremony to be tried
by a quest of twelve men, a jury, as I remember they
called it, or else a perjury. Now had the clothman,
by friendship of the officers, founden the means to have
all the quest almost made of the northern men, such
as had their booths there standing in the Fair. Now
was it come to the last day in the afternoon, and the
twelve men had heard both the parties, and their coun-
sel tell their tales at the bar, and were from the bar
had into a place, to talk, and common, and agree
upon their sentence. Nay, let me speak better in
my terms yet, I trow the judge giveth the sentence,
and the quests' tale is called a verdict. They were
scant come in together, but the northern men were
agreed, and in effect all the tother too, to cast our
London escheator. They thought there needed no
more to prove that he did wrong, than even the
name of his bare office alone. But then was there
among them, as the devil would, this honest man of
another quarter, that was called Company. And
because the fellow seemed but a fool, and sat still and
said nothing, they made no reckoning of him, but
said We be agreed now, come let us go and give our
verdict. Then when the poor fellow saw that they
made such haste, and his mind nothing gave him
that way that theirs did (if their minds gave them
that way that they said), he prayed them to tarry and
talk upon that matter, and tell him such reason
therein, that he might think as they did : and when
he so should do, he would be glad to say with them,
or else, he said, they must pardon him. For sith
he had a soul of his own to keep, as they had, he
must say as he thought for his, as they must for
theirs. When they heard this they were half angry
with him. What, good fellow, (quoth one of the
northern men) where wonnest thou ? Be not we eleven
here, and thou be but one alone, and all we agreed ?
Whereto shouldst thou stick ? What is thy name,
good fellow ? Masters (quoth he), my name is called
Company. Company, quoth they, now by thy troth,
good fellow, play then the good companion, come
thereon forth with us, and pass even for good
132
company. Would God, good masters, quoth the
man again, that there lay no more weight thereon.
But now when we shall hence and come before God,
and that He shall send you to heaven for doing
according to your conscience, and me to the devil for
doing against mine, in passing at your request here
for good company now, by God, Master Dickenson,
(that was one of the northern men's names), if I shall
then say to all you again, Masters, I went once for
good company with you, which is the cause I go now
to hell, play you the good fellows now again with
me, as I went then for good company with you, so
some of you go now for good company with me.
Would ye go, Master Dickenson ? Nay, nay, by Our
Lady, nor never one of you all. And therefore must
ye pardon me, from passing as you pass, but if I
thought in that matter as you do, I dare not in such
a matter pass for good company. For the passage of
my poor soul passeth all good company. And when
my father had told me this tale, then said he further
thus : I pray thee now, good Margaret, tell me this,
wouldst thou wish thy poor father, being at the least
wise somewhat learned, less to regard the peril of his
soul, than did there that honest unlearned man ? I
meddle not (you wot well) with the conscience of
any man that hath sworn : nor I take not upon me
133
to be their judge. But now if they do well, and
that their conscience grudge them not, if I, with
my conscience to the contrary, should for good
company pass on with them, and swear as they do,
when all our souls hereafter shall pass out of this
world, and stand in judgment at the bar before
the High Judge, if He judge them to heaven, and
me to the devil, because I did as they did, not
thinking as they thought, if I should then say
(as the good man Company said) : Mine old good
lords and friends, naming such a lord and such,
yea, and some bishops, peradventure of such as I love
best, I sware because you sware, and went that way
that you went, do likewise for me now, let me not
go alone ; if there be any good fellowship with you,
some of you come with me : by my troth, Margaret,
I may say to thee in secret counsel, here between us
twain, (but let it go no further I beseech thee
heartily,) I find the friendship of this wretched world
so fickle, that for any thing that I could treat or pray,
that would for good fellowship go to to the devil
with me, among them all, I ween, should not I find
one. And then, by God, M.argaret, if you think so
too, best it is, I suppose, that for any respect of them
all, were they twice as many more as they be, I have
myself a respect to mine own soul. Surely, father,
134
quoth I, without any scruple at all, you may be bold,
I dare say, for to swear that. But, father, they that
think you should not refuse to swear the thing, that
you see so many, so good men and so well learned,
swear before you, mean not that you should swear to
bear them fellowship, nor to pass with them for good
company : but that the credence that you may with
reason give to their persons for their aforesaid qualities,
should well move you to think the oath such of itself,
as every man may well swear without peril of their
soul, if their own private conscience to the contrary
be not the lest : and that ye well ought, and have
good cause, to change your own conscience, in con-
firming your own conscience to the conscience of so
many other, namely, being such as you know they
be. And sith it is also by a law made by the parlia-
ment commanded, they think that you be, upon the
peril of your soul, bounden to change and reform
your conscience, and confirm your own as I said unto
other mens'. Marry, Margaret, (quoth my father
again) for the part that you play, you play it not
much amiss. But Margaret, first, as for the law of
the land, though every man being born and inhabit-
ing therein is bounden to the keeping in every case
upon some temporal pain, and in many cases upon
pain of God's displeasure too, yet is there no man
135
bounden to swear that every law is well made, nor
bounden upon the pain of God's displeasure to perform
any such point of the law as were indeed unlawful.
Of which manner kind, that there may such hap to
be, made in any part of Christendom, I suppose no
man doubteth the general Council of the whole body
of Christendom evermore in that point except : which,
though it may make some things better than other,
and some things may grow to that point, that by
another law they may need to be reformed, yet to
institute any thing in such wise to God's displeasure,
as at the making might not lawfully be performed,
the spirit of God that governeth His church, never
had yet suffered, nor never hereafter shall, His whole
Catholic Church lawfully gathered together in a general
Council, as Christ hath made plain promises in Scrip-
ture. Now if it so hap, that in any particular
part of Christendom there be a law made, that be
such, as for some part thereof some men think that
the law of God cannot bear it, and some other think
yes, the thing being in such manner in question,
that thorough divers quarters of Christendom, some
that are good men and cunning, both of our own
days, and before our days, think some one way, and
some other of like learning and goodness think the
contrary, in this case he that thinketh against the law,
136
neither may swear that law lawfully was made, stand-
ing his own conscience to the contrary, nor is bounden
upon pain of God's displeasure to change his own
conscience therein, for any particular law made any-
where, other than by the general counsel, or by a
general faith grown by the working of God uni-
versally through all Christian nations ; nor other
authority than one of these twain (except special
revelation and express commandment of God) sith
the contrary opinions of good men and well learned,
as I put you the case, made the understanding of the
Scriptures doubtful, I can see none that lawfully may
command and compel any man to change his own
opinion, and to translate his own conscience from the
t'one side to the tother. For an ensample of some
such manner things, I have I trow before this time told
you, that whether our blessed lady were conceived in
original sin or not, was sometime in great question
among the great learned men of Christendom. And
whether it be yet decided and determined by any
general Council, I remember not. But this I re-
member well, that notwithstanding that the feast of
her conception was then celebrate in the church (at
the leastwise in divers provinces) yet was holy S.
Bernard, which, as his manifold books made in the
laud and praise of our lady do declare, was of as
137
devout affection toward all things sounding toward her
commendation, that he thought might well be verified
or suffered, as any man was living ; yet, I say, was
that holy devout man, against that part of her praise,
as appeareth well by an epistle of his, wherein he
right sore and with great reason argueth there against,
and approvethnot the institution of that feast neither.
Nor he was not of this mind alone, but many other
well learned men with him, and right holy men too.
Now was there on the tother side, the blessed holy
bishop Saint Anselm, and he not alone neither, but
many well learned and very virtuous also with him.
And they be both twain holy saints in heaven, and
many more that were on either side. Nor neither
part was there bounden to change their opinion, for
the tother, nor for any provincial Council either. But
like as after the determination of a well assembled
general Council, every man had been bound to give
credence that way, and confirm their own conscience
to the determination of the Council generally, and
then all they that held the contrary before, were for
that holding out of blame, so if before such decision
a man had against his own conscience, sworn to
maintain and defend the other side, he had not failed
to offend God very sore. But marry, if on the
t'other side a man would in a matter take away by
138
himself upon his own mind alone, or with some few,
or with never so many, against an evident truth
appearing by the common faith of Christendom, this
conscience is very damnable. Yea, or if it be not
even fully so plain and evident, yet if he see but him-
self with far the fewer part, think the t'one way, against
far the more part of as well learned and as good, as
those are that affirm the thing that he thinketh,
thinking and affirming the contrary, and that of such
folk as he has no reasonable cause wherefore he should
not in that matter suppose, that those which say they
think against his mind, affirm the thing that they say,
for no other cause but for that they so think indeed,
this is of very truth a very good occasion to move
him, and yet not to compel him, to conform his
mind and conscience unto theirs. But Margaret, for
what causes I refuse the oath, that thing (as I have
often told you) I will never show you, neither you
nor nobody else, except the king's highness should like
to command me. Which if his grace did, I have ere
this told you, therein how obediently I have said.
But surely, daughter, I have refused it, and do, for
more causes than one. And for what causes soever I
refuse it, this am I sure, that it is well known, that
of them that have sworn it, some of the best learned
before the oath given them, said and plain affirmed
139
the contrary, of some such things as they have now
sworn in the oath, and that upon their truth and
their learning then, and that not in haste nor suddenly,
but often and after great diligence done to seek and
find out the truth. That might be, father, (quoth I),
and yet since they might see more. I will not (quoth
he) dispute, daughter Margaret, against that, nor mis-
judge any other man's conscience, which lieth in their
own heart far out of my sight. But this will I say,
that I never heard myself the cause of their change,
by any new further thing founden of authority, than
as far as I perceive they had looked on, and as I sup-
pose, very well weighed before. Now of the self same
things that they saw before, seem some otherwise
unto them now than they did before, I am for their
sakes the gladder a great deal. But anything that
ever I saw before, yet at this day to me they seem
but as they did. And therefore, though they may do
otherwise than they might, yet, daughter, I may not.
As for such things as some men would haply say,
that I might with reason the less regard their change,
for any sample of them to be taken to the change of
my conscience, because that the keeping of the prince's
pleasure, and the avoiding of his indignation, the fear
of the losing of their worldly substance with regard
unto the discomfort of their kindred and their friends,
140
might hap make some men either swear otherwise
than they think, or frame their conscience afresh to
think otherwise than they thought, any such opinion
as this is, will I not conceive of them. I have better
hope of their goodness, than to think of them so.
For if such things should have turned them, the same
things had been likely to make me do the same : for
in good faith, I knew few so faint-hearted as myself.
Therefore will I, Margaret, by my will, think no
worse of other folk in the thing that I know not,
than I find in myself. But as I know well mine only
conscience causeth me to refuse the oath, so will I
trust in God, that according to their conscience they
have received it and sworn. But whereas you think,
Marget, that they be so many, more than there are
on the tother side that think in this thing as I think,
surely for your own comfort that ye shall not take
thought, thinking that your father casteth himself
away so like a fool, that he would jeopardy the loss of
his substance and peradventure his body, without any
cause why he so should for peril of his soul, but rather
his soul in peril thereby too, to this shall I say to
thee, Margef, that in some of my causes I nothing
doubt at all, but that though not in this realm, yet in
Christendom about, of those well learned men and
virtuous, that are yet alive, they be not the fewer part
141
that are of my mind. Besides that, that it were ye
wot well possible, that some men in this realm, too,
think not so clear the contrary, as by the oath received
they have sworn to say. Now thus far forth I say for
them, that are yet alive. But go we now to them
that are dead before, and that are, I trust, in heaven, I
am sure that it is not the fewer part of them, that all
the time while they lived, thought in some of the
things that way that I think now. I am also,
Margaret, of this thing sure enough, that if those holy
doctors and saints which to be with God in heaven
long ago no good Christian man doubteth, whose
books yet at this day remain here in men's
hands, there thought in some such things as
I think now. I say not that they thought all so,
but surely such and so many as will well appear by
their writing that I pray God give me the grace that
my soul may follow theirs. And yet I show you not
all, Af <7;g?/, that I have for myself in that sure discharge
of my conscience. But for the conclusion, daughter
Margaret, of all this matter, as I have often told you,
I take not upon me neither to define nor dispute in
these matters, nor I rebuke not nor impugn any
other man's deed, nor I never wrote, nor so much as
spake in any company, any word of reproach in any-
thing that the parliament had passed, nor I meddle
142
not with the conscience of any other man, that either
thinketh, or saith he thinketh, contrary unto mine.
But as concerning mine own self, for thy comfort shall
I say, daughter, to thee, that mine own conscience in
this matter (I damn none other man's) is such, as may
well stand with mine own salvation ; thereof am I,
Meggy as sure, as that God is in heaven. And there-
fore as for all the remnant, goods, lands, and life both
(if the chance should so fortune) sith this conscience
is sure for me, I verily trust in God, He shall rather
strengthen me to bear the loss, than against this con-
science to swear and put my soul in peril, sith all the
causes that I perceive move other men to the contrary,
seem not such unto me, as in my conscience make any
change. When he saw me sit with this, very sad as I
promise you, Sister, my heart was full heavy for the
peril of his person, nay, for in faith I fear not his
soul, he smiled upon me and said : how now, daughter
Marget? What how, Mother Eve? Where is your
mind now ? Sit not musing with some serpent in
your breast, upon some new persuasion, to offer father
Adam the apple once again. In good faith, father
(quoth I), I can no further go, but am (as I trow
Cresslda saith in Chaucer) come to Dukarnon, even at
my wits' end. For sith the ensample of so many
wise men cannot in this matter move you, I see not
'43
what to say more, but if I should look to persuade you
with the reason that Master Harry Pattenson made.
For he met one day one of our men, and when he had
asked where you were, and heard that you were in
the Tower still, he waxed even angry with you and
said : Why, what aileth him that he will not swear ?
Wherefore should he stick to swear ? I have sworn
the oath myself. And so I can in good faith go
now no further neither, after so many wise men,
whom ye take for no ensample, but if I should say,
like Master Harry : Why should you refuse to swear,
father ? for I have sworn myself. 1 At this he laughed
and said : That word was like Eve too, for she offered
Adam no worse fruit than she had eaten herself. But
yet, father (quoth I), by my troth, I fear me very sore,
that this matter will bring you in marvellous heavy
trouble. You know well that as I showed you,
Master Secretary sent you word as your very friend, to
remember that the parliament lasteth yet. Margaret,
quoth my father, I thank him right heartily. But as
I showed you then again, I left not this gear unthought
on. And albeit I know well that if they would make
a law to do me any harm that law could never be
1 She took the oath with this exception, as far as it would
stand with the law of God.
144
lawful, but that God shall I trust keep me in that
grace that concerning my duty to my prince, no man
shall do me hurt, but if he do me wrong (and then as
I told you, this is like a riddle, a case in which a man
may lese his head and have no harm) ; and notwith-
standing, also, that I have good hope that God shall
never suffer so good and wise a prince in such wise to
requite the long service of his true faithful servant,
yet sith there is nothing impossible to fall, I forgat
not in this matter the counsel of Christ in the Gospel,
that ere I should begin to build this castle for the
safeguard of mine own soul, I should sit and reckon
what the charge would be. I counted, Marget, full
surely many a restless night, while my wife slept, and
weened I had slept too, what peril were possible for to
fall to me, so far forth that I am sure there can come
none above. And in devising, daughter, thereupon,
I had a full heavy heart. But yet I thank our Lord
for all that, I never thought to change, though the
very uttermost should hap me that my fear ran
upon. No, father, (quoth I,) it is not like to think
upon a thing that may be, and to see a thing that
shall be, as ye should (our Lord save you), if the
chance should so fortune. And then should you per-
adventure think that you think not now, yet then
peradventure it would be too late. Too late, daughter
T,M, 145 L
(quoth my father) Margaret ? I beseech our Lord,
that if ever I make such a change it may be too late
indeed. For well I wot the change cannot be good
for my soul, that change I say that should grow but
by fear. And therefore I pray God that in this
world I never have good of such change. For so
much as I take harm here, I shall have at the leastwise
the less therefore when I am hence. And if it so
were that I wist well now, that I should faint and
fall, and for fear swear hereafter, yet would I wish to
take harm by the refusing first, for so should I have
the better hope for grace to rise again. And albeit
(Margef) that I wot well my lewdness hath been
such : that I know myself well worthy that God
should let me slip, yet can I not but trust in His
merciful goodness, that as His grace hath strengthened
me hitherto, and made me content in my heart, to
lese good, land, and life too, rather than swear against
my conscience, and hath also put in the king toward
me, that good and gracious mind, that as yet he hath
taken from me nothing but my liberty (wherewith, as
help me God), his grace hath done me so great good
by the spiritual profit that I trust I take thereby, that
among all his great benefits heaped upon me so thick,
I reckon upon my faith my imprisonment even the
very chief ; I cannot, I say, therefore, mistrust the
146
grace of God, but that either He shall conserve and
keep the king in that gracious mind still, to do me none
hurt, or else if His pleasure be, that for mine other
sins I shall suffer in such a cause in sight as I shall not
deserve, His grace shall give me that strength to take
it patiently, and peradventure somewhat gladly too,
whereby His High Goodness shall (by the merits of His
bitter passion joined thereunto, and far surmounting
in merit for me, all that I can suffer myself) make
it serve for release of my pain in purgatory, and
over that for increase of some reward in heaven.
Mistrust Him, Megg, will I not, though I feel me
faint. Yea, and though I should feel my fear even
at point to overthrow me too, yet shall I remember
how Saint Peter with a blast of wind began to sink for
his faint faith, and shall do as he did, call upon
Christ and pray Him to help. And then I trust He
shall set His holy hand unto me, and in the stormy
seas, hold me up from drowning. Yea, and if He
suffer me to play Saint Peter further, and to fall full to
the ground, and swear and forswear too (which our
Lord for His tender passion keep me from, and let me
lese if it so fall, and never win thereby) ; yet after
shall I trust that His goodness shall cast upon me His
tender piteous eye, as He did upon Saint Peter, and
make me stand up again and confess the truth of my
H7
conscience afresh, and abide the shame and the harm
here of mine own fault. And finally, Marget, this wot
I very well, that without my fault He will not let me
be lost. I shall therefore with good hope commit
myself wholly to Him. And if He suffer me for my
faults to perish, yet shall I then serve for a praise of
His justice. But in good faith, Meg, I trust that His
tender pity shall keep my poor soul safe, and make
me commend His mercy. And therefore, mine own
good daughter, never trouble thy mind for anything
that ever shall hap me in this world. Nothing
can come but that that God will. And I make me
very sure that whatsoever that be, seem it never so bad
in sight, it shall indeed be the best. And with this,
my good child, I pray you heartily, be you and all
your sisters, and my sons too, comfortable and service-
able to your good mother my wife. And of your
good husbands' minds I have no manner doubt.
Commend me to them all, and to my good daughter
dlington, and to all my other friends, sisters, nieces,
nephews, and allies, and unto all our servants, man,
woman, and child, and all my good neighbours, and
our acquaintance abroad. And I right heartily pray
both you and them, to serve God, and be merry and
rejoice in Him. And if anything hap me that you
would be loth, pray to God for me, but trouble not
148
yourself: as I shall full heartily pray for us all, that
we may meet together once in heaven, where we shall
make merry for ever, and never have trouble here-
after.
149
LETTER IV
Another Letter of Sir THOMAS MORE to bis daughter,
Mrs. MARGARET ROPER, written with a coal.
MINE own good daughter, our Lord be thanked, I am
in good health of body, and in good quiet of mind ;
and of worldly things I no more desire than I have.
I beseech Him make you all merry in the hope of
heaven. And such things as I somewhat longed to
talk with you all, concerning the world to come, our
Lord put them into your minds, as I trust He doth,
and better too, by His Holy Spirit ; Who bless you
and preserve you all. Written with a coal by your
tender loving father, who in his poor prayers forge t-
teth none of you all, nor your babes, nor your nurses,
nor your good husbands, nor your good husbands'
shrewd wives, nor your father's shrewd wife neither,
nor our other friends. And thus fare ye heartily
well for lack of paper.
THOMAS MORE, KNIGHT.
LETTER V
A third letter of Sir THOMAS MORE'S to his daughter,
Mrs. MARGARET ROPER, in answer to a Letter of hers
to him persuading him to take the Oath of Succession.
Our Lord bless you.
IF I had not been, my dearly beloved daughter, at a
firm and fast point, I trust, in God's great mercy this
good great while before, your lamentable letter had
not a little abashed me, surely far above all other
things, of which I hear divers times not a few
terrible toward me. But surely they all touched me
never so near, nor were so grievous unto me, as to
see you, my well-beloved child, in such vehement
piteous manner, labour to persuade unto me the
thing wherein I have, of pure necessity for respect
unto mine own soul, so often given you so precise
answer before. Wherein as touching the points of
your letter, I can make none answer. For I doubt
not but you well remember, that the matters which
move my conscience (without declaration whereof I
153
can nothing touch the points), I have sundry times
showed you that I will disclose them to no man.
And, therefore, daughter Margaret, I can in this
thing no further, but like as you labour me again to
follow your mind, to desire and pray you both again,
to leave off such labour, and with my former answers
to hold yourself content. A deadly grief unto me,
and much more deadly than to hear of mine own
death, (for the fear thereof, I thank our Lord, the
fear of hell, the hope of heaven, and the passion of
Christ daily more and more assuage) is, that I per-
ceive my good son your husband, and you my good
daughter, and my good wife, and mine other good
children and innocent friends, in great displeasure
and danger of great harm thereby. The let
whereof, while it lieth not in my hand, I can no
further but commit all to God. Nam in manu del
(saith the Scripture) cor regu est, et slcut dlvmones
aquarum quocunque voluerit Impellit lllud. Whose high
goodness I most humbly beseech to incline the noble
heart of the king's highness to the tender favour of
you all, and to favour me no better than God and
myself know that my faithful heart toward him
and my daily prayer for him do deserve. For
surely if his highness might inwardly see my true
mind such as God knoweth it is, it would, I trust,
'54
soon assuage his high displeasure. Which while I
can in this world never in such wise shew, but that
his Grace may be persuaded to believe the contrary
of me, I can no further go, but put all in the hands
of Him for fear of Whose displeasure, for the safeguard
of my soul stirred by mine own conscience, (with-
out insectation, or reproach laying to any other man's)
I suffer and endure this trouble. Out of which I
beseech Him to bring me, when His will shall be,
into His endless bliss of Heaven, and in the mean-
while, give me grace and you both, in all our agonies
and troubles, devoutly to resort prostrate unto the
remembrance of that bitter agony, which our
Saviour suffered before His passion at the Mount.
And if we diligently so do, I verily trust we shall
find therein great comfort and consolation. And
thus, my dear daughter, the blessed spirit of Christ, for
His tender mercy, govern and guide you all, to His
pleasure and your weal and comforts, both body and
soul.
Your tender loving Father,
THOMAS MORE, KNIGHT.
'55
LETTER VI
To this last Letter Mistress MARGARET ROPER wrote an
answer and sent it to Sir THOMAS MORE her father,
the copy whereof here followed.
MINE own good father ; it is to me no little com-
fort, sith I cannot talk with you by such means as I
would, at the least way to delight myself among in
this bitter time of your absence, by such means as
I may, by as often writing to you as shall be
expedient, and by reading again and again your most
fruitful and delectable letter, the faithful messenger of
your very virtuous and ghostly mind, rid from all
corrupt love of worldly things, and fast knit only in
the love of God and desire of Heaven, as becometh a
very true worshipper and a faithful servant of God,
which I doubt not, good father, holdeth His holy
157
hand over you, and shall (as He hath) preserve you
both body and soul ; (ut sit mem sana in corpore sand)
and namely now, when you have abjected all earthly
consolations, and resigned yourself willingly, gladly,
and fully for His love to His holy protection.
Father, what think you hath been our comfort since
your departing from us ? Surely the experience we
have had of your life past and godly conversation and
wholesome counsel, and virtuous example, and a
surety not only of the continuance of that same, but
also a great increase, by the goodness of our Lord, to
the great rest and gladness of your heart, devoid of all
earthly dregs and garnished with the noble vesture
of heavenly virtues, a pleasant palace for the holy
spirit of God to rest in, Who defend you (as I doubt
not, good father, but of His goodness He will) from
all trouble of mind and of body, and give me your
most loving obedient daughter and handmaid, and all
us your children and friends, to follow that we
praise in you, and to our only comfort remember and
commune together of you, that we may in conclusion
meet with you, mine own dear father, in the
bliss of Heaven, to which our most merciful Lord hath
bought us with His precious blood.
Your own most loving obedient daughter and
bedes woman Margaret Roper, which desireth above
158
all worldly things to be in John a Wood's stead to do
you some service. But we live in hope that we shall
shortly receive you again. I pray God heartily we
may, if it be His holy will.
159
LETTER Fit
A Letter written and sent by Sir THOMAS MORE to his
daughter Mistress ROPER, written the second or third
day of May, in the Tear of our Lord, 1535, and in the
27 'th Tear of the Reign of King HENRY VIII.
Our Lord bless you.
MY dearly beloved daughter, I doubt not but by
the reason of the King's councillors resorting hither
in this time, in which (our Lord be their comfort)
these fathers of the Charterhouse and Master
Reynolds of Sion be now judged to death for treason
(whose matters and causes I know not) may hap
to put you in trouble and fear of mind concerning me
being here prisoner, specially for that it is not un-
likely that you have heard that I was brought also
before the council here myself, I have thought it
necessary to advertise you of the very truth, to the end
that you should neither conceive more hope than the
matter giveth, lest upon another turn it might aggrieve
your heaviness : nor more grief and fear than the
matter giveth on the tother side. Wherefore shortly
T.M. l6l M
ye shall understand that on Friday, the last day of
April in the afternoon, Master Lieutenant came in
here unto me, and showed me that Master Secretary
would speak with me, whereupon I shifted my gown, and
went out with Master Lieutenant into the gallery to
him, where I met many, some known and some
unknown, in the way. And in conclusion coming
into the chamber where his Mastership sat with
Master Attorney, Master Solicitor, Master Bedell, and
Master Doctor Tregonwell, I was offered to sit down
with them, which in no wise I would. Whereupon
Master Secretary showed unto me, that he doubted
not, but that I had, by such friends as hither had
resorted to me, seen the new statutes made at the
last sitting of the parliament. Whereunto I answered :
Yea, verily. Howbeit forasmuch as, being here, I
have no conversation with any people, I thought it
little need for me to bestow much time upon them,
and therefore I redelivered the book shortly, and the
effect of the statutes I never marked or studied to put
in remembrance. Then he asked me whether I had
not read thejirst statute of them, of the King being
head of the church. Whereunto I answered, Yes.
Then his Mastership declared unto me, that sith it
was now by act of parliament ordained, that his
highness and his heirs be, and ever of right have
162
been, and perpetually should be, supreme head in
earth of the Church of England under Christ, the
King's pleasure was, that those of his council there
assembled, should demand mine opinion, and what
my mind was therein. Whereunto I answered, that
in good faith I had well trusted, that the king's
highness would never have commanded any such
question to be demanded of me, considering that I
ever from the beginning, well and truly from time to
time declared my mind unto his highness ; and since
that time (I said) unto your Mastership, Master Secre-
tary, also, both by mouth and by writing. And now I
have in good faith discharged my mind of all such
matters, and neither will dispute kings' titles nor popes' :
but the King's true faithful subject I am, and will be,
and daily I pray for him, and all his, and for you all
that are of his honourable council, and for all the
realm. And otherwise than this, I never intend to
meddle. Whereunto Master Secretary answered,
that he thought this manner of answer should not
satisfy nor content the king's highness, but that his
grace would exact a more full answer. And his
Mastership added thereunto that the king's high-
ness was a prince, not of rigour, but of
mercy and pity. And though that he had found
obstinacy at some time in any of his subjects, yet
163
when he should find them at another time com-
formable and submit themselves, his grace would
show mercy : and that concerning myself, his
highness would be glad to see me take such com-
fortable ways, as I might be abroad in the world
again among other men, as I have been before.
Whereunto I shortly (after the inward affection of my
mind) answered for a very truth, that I would never
meddle in the world again, to have the world given
me. And to the remnant of the matter, I answered
in effect as before, showing that I had fully deter-
mined with myself, neither to study nor meddle with
any matter of this world, but that my whole study
should be upon the passion of Christ, and mine own
passage out of this world. Upon this I was com-
manded to go forth for a while, and after called in
again. At which time Master Secretary said unto
me, that though I were a prisoner condemned to per-
petual prison, yet I was not thereby discharged of
mine obedience and allegiance unto the king's high-
ness. And thereupon demanded me whether that I
thought that the king's grace might not exact of
me such things as are contained in the statutes, and
upon like pains, as he might upon other men.
Whereto I answered that I would not say the con-
trary. Whereunto he said that, likewise as the
164
king's highness would be gracious to them that he
found comformable, so his grace would follow the
course of his laws toward such as he shall find
obstinate. And his Mastership said further, that my
demeanour in this matter was a thing that of likeli-
hood made others so stiff therein as they be. Whereto
I answered, that I give no man occasion to hold any
point one or other, nor never gave any man advice
or counsel therein one way or other. And for con-
clusion I could no farther go, whatsoever pain should
come thereof. I am (quoth I) the king's true faithful
subject and daily bedesman, and pray for his highness
and all the realm. I do nobody no harm, I say
none harm, I think none harm, but wish every-
body good. And if this be not enough to keep a
man alive, in good faith I long not to live. And I
am dying already, and have since I came here, been
divers times in the case that I thought to die within
one hour. And I thank our Lord that I was never
sorry for it, but rather sorry when I saw the pang past.
And therefore my poor body is at the king's pleasure.
Would God my death might do him good. After
this Master Secretary said : Well, ye find no fault in
that statute : find you any in any of the other statutes
after ? Whereto I answered, Sir, whatsoever thing
should seem to me other than good, in any of the
165
other statutes or in that statute either, I would not
declare what fault I found, nor speak thereof.
Whereunto finally his Mastership said, full gently,
that of anything that I had spoken here should none
advantage be taken. And whether he said farther
that there was none to be taken, I am not well
remembered. But he said that report should be
made unto the king's highness, and his gracious
pleasure known. Whereupon I was delivered again
to Master Lieutenant, which was then called
in. And so was I by Master Lieutenant brought
again into my chamber. And here am I yet in
such case as I was, neither better nor worse. That
that shall follow lieth in the hand of God, Whom I
beseech to put in the king's grace's mind, that thing
that may be to His high pleasure, and in mine, to
mind only the weal of my soul, with little regard of
my body, and you with all yours, and my wife, and
all my children, and all our other friends, both bodily
and ghostly, heartily well to fare. And I pray you
and them all pray for me, and take no thought what-
soever shall happen me. For I verily trust in
the goodness of God, seem it never so evil to this
world, it shall indeed in another world be for the best.
Your loving Father,
THOMAS MORE, KNIGHT.
1 66
LETTER VIII
Another Letter written and sent by Sir THOMAS MORE
to bis Daughter, Mistress ROPER, written In the Tear
of our Lord, 1535, and In the ^']th Tear of the Reign
of King HENRY VIII.
Our Lord bless you and all yours.
FORASMUCH (dearly beloved daughter) as it is likely
that you either have heard, or shortly shall hear, that
the council were here this day, and that I was before
them, I have thought it necessary to send you word
how the matter standeth, and verily, to be short, I
perceive little difference between this time and the
last. For as far as I can see the whole purpose is,
either to drive me to say precisely the t'one way, or
else precisely the tother. Here sat my Lord of Can-
terbury, my Lord Chancellor, my Lord of Suffolk,
my Lord of Wiltshire, and Master Secretary. And
after my coming, Master Secretary made rehearsal in
what wise he had reported unto the king's highness,
.67
what had been said by his grace's council to me, and
what had been answered by me to them at mine
other being before them here last. Which thing his
Mastership rehearsed, in good faith, very well, as I ac-
knowledged and confessed and heartily thanked him
therefore. Whereupon he added thereunto, that
the king's highness was nothing content nor satisfied
with mine answer, but thought that, by my demea-
nour, I had been occasion of much grudge and harm
in the realm, and that I had an obstinate mind and
an evil toward him, and that my duty was, being his
subject (and so he had sent them now in his name
upon mine allegiance to command me) to make a
plain and a terminate answer whether I thought the
statute lawful or not. And that I should either ac-
knowledge and confess it lawful, that his highness
should be supreme head of the church of England,
or else utter plainly my malignity. Whereto I
answered that I had no malignity, and therefore I
could none utter. And as to the matter I could
none other answer make than I had before made,
which answer his Mastership had there rehearsed.
Very heavy I was that the king's highness should
have any such opinion of me. Howbeit if there
were one that had informed his highness many evil
things of me that were untrue, to which his high-
168
ness for the time gave credence, I would be very
sorry that he should have that opinion of me the
space of one day. Howbeit if I were sure that other
should come on the morrow, by whom his grace
should know the truth of mine innocency, I should
in the meanwhile comfort myself with consideration
of that. And in likewise now, though it be great
heaviness to me, that his highness hath such opinion
of me for the while, yet have I no remedy to help
it, but only to comfort myself with this consideration
that I know very well that the time shall come when
God shall declare my truth toward his grace before
him and all the world. And whereas it might
haply seem to be but small cause of comfort, be-
cause I might take harm here first in the meanwhile,
I thanked God that my case was such here in this
matter, through the clearness of mine own conscience,
that though I might have pain, I could not have
harm. For a man may in such a case lese his head
and have no harm. For I was very sure that I
had no corrupt affection, but that I had always from
the beginning truly used myself, looking first upon
God, and next upon . the king, according to the
lesson that ' his highness taught me at my first
coming to his noble service, the most virtuous lesson
that ever prince taught his servant,' whose highness
169
to have of me now such opinion is my great heaviness.
But I have no means, as I said, to help it, but only
comfort myself in the meantime with the hope of
that joyful day in which my truth toward him shall
well be known. And in this matter further I could
not go, nor other answer thereto I could not make.
To this it was said by my Lord Chancellor and Mas-
ter Secretary both, that the king might by his laws
compel me to make a plain answer thereto, either the
t'one way or the tother. Whereto I answered that I
would not dispute the king's authority, what his
highness might do in such a case. But I said that
verily, under correction, it seemed to me somewhat
hard. For if it so were that my conscience gave me
against the statute (wherein how my conscience giveth
me I make no declaration) then I, nothing doing nor
nothing saying against the statute, it were a very hard
thing, to compel me to say, either precisely with it
against my conscience to the loss of my soul, or pre-
cisely against it to the destruction of my body. To
this Master Secretary said, that I had ere this when I
was Chancellor, examined heretics and thieves, and
other malefactors, and gave me a great praise above
my deserving in that behalf. And he said that I
then, as he thought, and at the leastwise bishops, did
use to examine heretics, whether they believed the
170
Pope to be head of the church, and used to compel
them to make a precise answer thereto. And why
should not then the king, since it is a law made here
that his grace is head of the church here, compel
men to answer precisely to the law here, as they did
then concerning the Pope ? I answered and said,
that I protested that I intended not to defend my
part, or stand in contention. But I said there was a
difference between those two cases, because that at
that time, as well here as elsewhere through the corps
of Christendom, the Pope's power was recognised for
an undoubted thing ; which seemeth not like a thing
agreed in this realm, and the contrary taken for truth
in other realms. Whereto Master Secretary answered,
that they were as well burned for the denying of that,
as they be beheaded for the denying of this ; and
therefore as good reason to compel them to make
precise answer to the t'one as to the tother. Whereto
I answered, that sith in this case a man is not by
a law of one realm so bound in his conscience, where
there is a law of the whole corps of Christendom to
the contrary in matter touching belief, as he is by a
law of the whole corps, though there hap to be
made in some place a law local to the contrary, the
reasonableness or the unreasonableness in binding a
man to precise answer, standeth not in the respect
171
or difference between heading and burning, but
because of the difference in charge of conscience, the
difference standeth between heading and hell. Much
was there answered unto this, both by Master Secre-
tary and my Lord Chancellor, over long to rehearse.
And in conclusion they offered me an oath, by which
I should be sworn, to make true answer to such
things as should be asked me on the king's behalf,
concerning the king's own person. Whereto I
answered, l that verily I never purposed to swear any
book oath more while I lived.' Then they said that
I was very obstinate if I would refuse that, for every
man doth it in the star chamber and everywhere. I
said that was true, but I had not so little foresight,
but that I might well conjecture what should be part
of mine interrogatories ; and as good it was to refuse
them at the first as afterward. Whereto my Lord
Chancellor answered, that he thought I guessed truth,
for I should see them. And so they were showed
me, ' and they were but twain ; the first, whether I
had seen the statute ' ; the tother, ' whether I believed
that it were a lawful made statute or not.' Where-
upon I refused the oath, said further by mouth that
the first I had before confessed, and to the second I
would make none answer ; which was the end of our
communication, and I was thereupon sent away. In
172
the communication before, it was said that it was
marvelled that I stake so much in my conscience,
while at the uttermost I was not sure therein. Whereto
I said that I was very sure that mine own conscience,
so informed as it is, by such diligence as I have so
long taken therein, may stand with mine own salva-
tion. ' I meddle not with the conscience of them
that think otherwise.' Every man suo damno stat aut
eadit. I am no man's judge. It was also said unto
me, that if I had as lief be out of the world as in
it, as I had there said, why did I not then speak even
plain out against the statute ? It appeared well I was
not content to die, though I said so. Whereto I
answered, as the truth is, that I have not been a man
of such holy living, as I might be bold to offer myself
to death, lest God for my presumption might suffer
me to fall, and therefore I put not myself forward but
draw back. Howbeit, if God draw me to it Him-
self, then trust I in His great mercy that He shall not
fail to give me grace and strength. In conclusion
Master Secretary said, that he liked me this day much
worse than he did the last time. For then he said
he pitied me much, and now he thought I meant not
well. But God and I know both that I mean well,
and so I pray God do by me. I pray you, be you
and mine other good friends of good cheer whatso-
173
ever fall of me, and take no thought for me, but pray
for me, as I do and shall for you and all them.
Your tender loving Father,
THOMAS MORE, KNIGHT.
'74
LETTER IX
Sir THOMAS MORE was beheaded at the Tower-hill, In
LONDON, on TUESDAY, the sixth day of JULY, in the
year of our Lord 1535, and in the xxvii. year
of the Reign of King HENRY VIII. And on the day
next before, being MONDAY, and the fifth day of
JULY, he wrote with a coal a letter to his daughter
Mistress ROPER, and sent it to her (which was the last
thing that ever he wrote), the copy whereof here
followeth.
OUR Lord bless you, good daughter, and your good
husband, and your little boy, and all yours, and all
my children, and all my god-children and all our
friends. Recommend me, when ye may to my good
daughter Cicily, whom I beseech our Lord to com-
fort. And I send her my blessing, and to all her
children, and pray her to pray for me. I send her an
handkerchief: and God comfort my good son her
husband. My good daughter Dance hath the picture
in parchment, that you delivered me from my Lady
175
Coniers, her name is on the backside. Show her
that I heartily pray her, that you may send it in my
name to her again, for a token from me to pray for
me. I like special well Dorothy Co/y, I pray you be
good unto her. I would wit whether this be she
that you wrote me of. If not, yet I pray you be good
to the tother, as you may in her affliction, and to my
good daughter Joan Aleyn too. Give her, I pray you,
some kind answer, for she sued hither to me this day
to pray you be good to her. I cumber you, good
Margaret, much, but I would be sorry if it should be
any longer than to morrow. For it is Saint Thomas'
Eve, and the Utas of Saint Peter : and therefore to-
morrow long I to go to God : it were a day very
meet and convenient for me. I never liked your
manner toward me better than when you kissed me
last : for I love when daughterly love and dear charity
hath no leisure to look to worldly courtesy. Fare-
well, my dear child, and pray for me, and I shall for
you and all your friends, that we may merrily meet in
heaven. I thank you for your great cost. I send
now to my good daughter Clement her algorism
stone, and I send her, and my godson, and all hers
God's blessing and mine. I pray you at time con-
venient recommend me to my good son John More.
I liked well his natural fashion. Our Lord bless him
176
and his good wife my loving daughter, to whom I
pray him to be good, as he hath great cause : and
that if the land of mine come to his hand, he break
not my will concerning his sister Dance. And our
Lord bless Thomas and Austen and all that they
shall have.
T.M. 177
EPITAPHS
Sir THOMAS MORE being Lord Chancellor of ENGLAND
gave over that Office, by his great suit and labour, the
1 6 day of May, A.D. 1532, and in the i^th year
of the reign of King HENRY VIII. And after in that
summer he wrote an epitaph in Latin and caused it to
be written upon his tomb of stone which himself, while
he was Lord Chancellor, had caused to be made in his
Parish Church of CHELSEA, where he dwelt, three
small miles from LONDON, the copy of which epitaph
here followeth.
THOMAS MORUS urbe Londinensi familia non celebri
sed honesta natus, in literis utcunque versatus quum
et causas aliquot annos juvenis egisset in foro, et in
urbe sua pro Shyrevo jus dixisset, ab invictissimo rege
Henrico octavo (cui uni regum omnium gloria prius
inaudita contigit, ut Fidel defensor, qualem et gladio se
et calamo vere prestitit, merito vocaretur) adscitus in
Aulam est, delectusque in consilium, et creatus eques
proquaestor primum, post Cancellarius Lancastriee,
tandem Anglic miro Principis favore factus est. Sed
179
interim in publico Regni Senatu lectus est orator
Populi ; praeterea legatus Regis nonnunquam fuit
alias alibi : postremo vero Cameraci comes et collega
junctus principi legationis Cuthberto Tunstallo turn
Londmensi mox Dunelmensi Episcopo, quo viro vix
habet orbis hodie quicquam eruditius, prudentius,
melius. Ibi inter summos orbis christiani monarches
rursus refecta fcedera redditamque mundo diu desider-
atam pacem, et laetissimus vidit, et legatus interfuit.
Quam super! pacem firment faxintque perennem.
In hoc officiorum vel honorum cursu quum ita
versaretur ut neque princeps optimus operam ejus
improbaret, neque nobilibus esset invisus, nee inju-
cundus populo, furibus autem, homicidis, haereticisque
molestus, pater ejus * tandem Joannes Morns eques et
in eum Judicum Ordinem a principe cooptatus, qui
reglus consessus vocatur, homo civilis, suavis, innocens,
mitis, misericors, aequus et integer, annis quidem
gravis, sed corpore plusquam pro aetate vivido, post-
quam eo productam sibi vitam vidit ut filium videret
Anglice Cancellarium, satis in terra jam se moratum
ratus, libens emigravit in Ccelum. At filius, defuncto
patre, cui quamdiu supererat comparatus et juvenis
vocari consueverat, et ipse quoque sibi videbatur,
amissum jam patrem requirens, et aeditos ex se liberos
i A.D. 1518.
1 80
quatuor ac nepotes undecim respiciens apud animum
suum coepit persenescere. Auxit hunc afFectum animi
subsecuta statim, velut adpetentis senij signum pectoris
valetudo deterior. Itaque mortalium harum rerum
satur, quam rem a puero pene semper optaverat, ut
ultimos aliquot vitae suae annos obtineret liberos,
quibus hujus vitae negotijs paulatim se subducens
futurae posset immortalitatem meditari, earn rem
tandem (si cceptis annuat DEUS) indulgentissimi
Principis incomparabili beneficio resignatis honoribus
impetravit : atque hoc sepulchrum sibi, quod mortis
eum nunquam cessantis abrepere quotidie common fac-
eret, translatis hue prioris uxoris ossibus, extruendum
curavit. Quod ne superstes frustra sibi fecerit, neve
ingruentem trepidus mortem horreat, sed desiderio
Christi libens oppetat, mortemque ut sibi non omnino
mortem, sed januam vitae faelicioris inveniat precibus
eum piis, lector optime, spirantem precor defunctum-
que prosequere.
Under this epitaph in prose he caused to be written on
his tomb this Latin epitaph In verses following, which
himself had made zo 1 Tears before.
Chara Tbomte jacet hie Joanna uxorcula Mori,
Qui tumulum Alicia hunc destine, quique mihi.
1 1513-
181
Una mihi dedit hoc conjuncta virentibus annis,
Me vocet ut puer et trina puella patrem.
Altera privignis (quae gloria rara novercae est)
Tarn pia quam gratis vix fuit ulla suis.
Altera sic mecum vixit, sic altera vivit,
Charior incertum est, haec sit an haec fuerit.
O simul O juncti poteramus vivere nos tres,
Quam bene si factum religioque sinant.
At societ tumulus, societ nos obsecro coelum,
Sic Mors, non potuit quod dare Vita, dabit.
But of this place ot rest Sir Thomas had like to
have been disappointed, by his falling under the
King's displeasure and having an untimely death, had
it not been for the piety and interest of his daughter
Mrs. Roper. For after his execution his headless
body being buried by order in St. Peter's chapel
within the Tower, Mrs. Roper got leave, not long
after, to remove her father's corpse to Chelsea, to be
laid where he himself had designed it should rest.
182
NOTES.
3. William Roper, 1496-1578, was sheriff of Kent in 1521,
and long time clerk of the pleas of the king's bench. He
married in 1525 More's eldest daughter and lived much in his
confidence. His wife died in 1544, but he survived till 3 Jan.,
1578. The work was apparently written in Queen Mary's
time.
5. St. Anthony's in London. A free school belonging to the
Hospital of St. Anthony in Threadneedle Street, at that time
taught by Nicolas Holt, author later of a Latin grammar
called Lac Puerorum, which contains some of More's epigrams.
It was, according to Stow, the best school in London. See
Stow, Newcourt.
Oxford. More was there in 1492-3, at Canterbury Hall,
afterwards absorbed by Christ Church. He was taught Greek
by Linacre.
5. Cardinal Morton. See More's description of Morton's
household in the Utopia.
6. Ne*w Inn. Now destroyed. It lay on the site of the
Aldwych constructed in 1903. More was a member in
1492-3.
6. Charterhouse. A Carthusian monastery founded by Sir
Walter Manny in 1371.
6. Master Colte. More's first wife was Jane (or Joan),
daughter of John Colt, of Newhall, Essex. After her death
18 3
he married a widow, Alice Middleton, daughter of John
More, of Losely, Surrey.
7. three fifteenths. The Venetian Ambassador in 1500 says
that one-fifteenth of the three estates amounted to 37,930.
Italian relation, p. 52.
eldest daughter, Margaret, m. James IV. of Scotland, 1 502.
7. three daughters and one son. Margaret (1505) m.
William Roper, Elizabeth (1506) m. William Dancy, and Cecilia
(1507) m. Giles Heron, John (1509) m. Anne Cresacre.
7. called to the Bench ; i.e. became a bencher. Reader in
Court. An office reserved for benchers. His first reading was
in the autumn of 1511, at Lincoln's Inn, his second in Lent,
1516. He had before been reader in Furnival's Inn.
8. bis father. John More (sergeant-at-law Nov., 1503,
Justice Common Pleas, Nov., 1517, King's Bench April 1520)
was a Commissioner for Hertfordshire for the collection of the
subsidy.
8. over sea. More did, in fact, visit Louvain and Paris in
1508.
8. Sion. The monastery of St. Saviour and St. Bridget of
Sion at Isleworth, founded by Henry V.
9. merchants of the Stilliard were the Flemish merchants
of the Hanse. Their house was on the site of Cannon Street
Station. They were privileged in 1259, and were governed by
their own laws. The "English Merchants" were the
Merchant Adventurers' Company, a branch of the Mercers, who
received a charter in 1505 to trade with the Low Countries.
Their first charter was in 1407. This choice of More took
place in 1514. See Gross and Cunningham for details of the
Hanse, etc.
10. the Pope's ambassador. Cardinal Campeggio.
11. traverse. First a screen, then a cross bench, and then
any private seat or room screened by a traverse.
into the leads. On the roof.
12. treasurer of the Exchequer. It was while More held
this office that Tunstall dedicated to him his treatise " de arte
supputandi," the first Arithmetic printed in England.
I8 4
1 9. sith. Since.
27. no mastery. Mastery is magisterium a masterpiece
a thing requiring great skill.
29. sweating sickness. This disease appeared first in 1485,
then in 1508, 1517, 1528, and 1551, when it appeared for the
last time. See Social England, II. 755 seq. for an account of
its symptoms and spread.
30. glister. Clyster.
30. God's marks are those symptoms in any disease which
betoken certain death. Cf. "The marks of the plague com-
monly called Goddes markes," quoted in 1558, in the N.E.D.
31. ivood. Wroth, angry, mad.
32. Longland, Bishop of Lincoln (1521-1547). This charge
seems to have been unfounded.
36. in a fume. A fit of anger, an irritable mood. See
Skelton's Why come ye not to Court.
37. ambassadors to Cambray. In July, 1529. The peace
was concluded Aug. 5.
42. all-ivere-it. Cf. a/beit, a/though.
44. injunctions. The Equity jurisdiction corrected the
rigour of an application of the letter of the law to cases outside
its original scope by injunctions to stop proceedings, etc., until
the Chancery court was satisfied that justice was done.
48. my sister More. Anne Cresacre, who married Sir
Thomas More's son.
47. I had lie-ver. I would rather.
53. twenty marks. 13 6s. %d. annual value = 1 60
per annum now, say a capital value of about 2,000. He was
earning between 4,000 and 5,000 present value when he
entered the royal service.
54. sadly. Soberly.
55. Quia spicula pravisa minus l&dunt. Foreseen griefs
wound the less.
59. certain nun. Elizabeth Barton, the "holy maid of
Kent." Executed at Tyburn, April, 1534.
61. Wiltshire. Sir Thomas Boleyn (1477-1539), Earl of
Wiltshire, father of Anne Boleyn.
I8 S
62. angels. A gold coin, at this time coined to be worth
about js. 6d. (present value 4 los. od. in purchasing power).
62. instant. Imperative.
63. for tediousness omitting. "For fear of tediousness omit-
ting." A latinism.
64. misprision of treason is the bare knowledge and conceal-
ment of treason without any degree of assent thereto, for any
assent makes the party a traitor.
66. a book of the assertion. This was the " Assertio septem
sacramentorum adversus Martinum Lutherum," etc. London,
1521,410, etc.
67. Statute of PramunirC) imposed 1353 and again in 1392.
By preventing the recognition of any foreign jurisdiction in
England it became a powerful weapon in the hands of Henry
VIII.
70. Indignatio principis mors est. The wrath of the prince is
death.
70. Quod differtur non aufertur. What is put off is not
done away with.
71. to appear at Lambeth. April 13, 1534. The Act had
been passed on March 30.
71. be bouseled. Received the Communion.
rounded me in the ear. Whispered me.
72. not to be acknoivn. Not to be recognizable from the
other.
72. Sir Richard Cromwell. This name is variously given as
Sir Richard Southwell and Sir Richard Winkefield.
75. a -wanton. A pet. Cf. " Like little wanton boys that
swim on bladders."
76. fint statute. 26 H. VIII. March 30, 1534.
another statute. " When Parliament met on 3 November,
1534, it was voted that the oath as administered to More and
Fisher was to be reputed the very oath intended by the act of
succession." D.N.B.
77. contrary to the order of laiu. More's goods were forfeit
owing to his refusal to take the oath, but the effect of the con-
veyances was that they were no longer his.
1 86
78. Master Reynolds. Richard Reynolds, executed May 4,
1535, beatified at the same time as More.
79. silly. Weak, frail.
79. These verses are printed in the "Works" of More,
p. 1432, and are there called " Lewys the lost lover." See a
fuller discussion in the preface.
8 1. What the good-yere. A favourite phrase. See Merry
Wives of Windsor, I. 4. Much Ado about Nothing, I. 3.
8 1 . muse. Wonder.
82. JondJy. Foolishly. Tylle valle, Tylle valle. First line
of a popular song, occurs in Twelfth Night, II. 3., 2 Henry IV.,
II.4., Skelton, Gower, etc.
84. Statute. 26 H. VIII. c. 13. Nov. 18, 1534.
88. Quia si dixerimus. " If we say that we have no sin,
we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." i John i. 8.
to temporal man before. More was the first layman to be
Lord High Chancellor.
92. St. Paul said to the Corinthians. i Corinthians iv. 15.
95. merrily. With good cheer.
Old Swan. The landing place west of London Bridge, still in
existence as a pier.
96. More's trial and condemnation took place July ist,
1 S3$-
98. Utas of St. Peter. The Octave of St. Peter and the
Eve of the Translation of St. Thomr.s a Becket.
100. javill. Javel, a worthless fellow.
105. secretly. In private, silently.
108. played their pageant. In the old town plays each
company came in turn to every platform, played their pageant,
or share of the plays, and went on to the next stand. The
word was also used for a series of emblematic charades or even
pictures. More himself had designed some of these last, and
written verses for them.
no. soyleth. Assoileth.
114. JEsop's fables. On p. 124 this is referred to Wolsey.
123. sely. Simpleton.
130. let in line 3 = delay. At the foot of the page=allow.
I8 7
Pie. The court of Piepowder. A court of summary
jurisdiction in fairs, presided over by the bailiff of the Lord of
the Manor, or other holder of the tolls.
131. escbeator. An officer appointed to take note of the
escheats and forfeitures in his district, and to report them to thr
Exchequer.
tolling. Dragging.
quests'. The jurors and bailiff formed the " inquest."
cast. Condemn in costs.
132. wannest. Gettest to.
146. letudness. Ignorance, folly.
154. Nam in manu, etc. For the heart of the king is in the
hand of God, etc.
158. namely. Especially.
171. corps. Body.
176. algorism stone. Probably a slate ruled in columns to
work simple sums in arithmetic on.
182. These are extracted from Weaver's Funeral Monu-
ments, pp. 505-6.
188
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
WILLIAM ROPER'S LIFE.
(i). The Mirrour of Vertue in worldly greatness, or the life
of Syr Thomas More, Knight, sometime Lord Chancellour.
Edited by T.P. (? Thomas Plowden). Paris, 1626. izmo
(B.M.).
(2) Edited by Thomas Hearne, Oxford, 1716, 8vo (B.M.).
(3) Edited by John Lewis, London, 1729, 8vo (B.M.).
(4) The same London, 1731, 8vo (B.M.).
(5) The same Dublin, 1765, 8vo (Singer).
(6) Edited by Singer, London, 1817, 8vo (B.M.), only 150
copies.
(7) The same London, 1822, 8vo (B.M.).
(8) Lewis, Dublin, 1835, 8vo (B.M.) (7th Edition).
(9) Hearne-Lumby, Cambridge, 1879, 8vo (B.M.), with the
Utopia.
(10) Hearne-Adams, London, 1886, 8vo (B.M.), with the
Utopia.
(n) Singer-Gollancz, London, fol.
MSS. in the British Museum. Harleian 6166, 6254, 6362,
7030-
THOMAS STAPLETON'S LIFE IN "TRES THOMAE."
(1) Douai, 1588, 8vo (B.M.).
(2) Cologne, 1612, 8vo (B.M.).
(3) Paris, 1620, fol. (B.M.).
(4) Cologne, 1689, fol., in collected Works of More.
(5) Gratz, 1689, 8vo (B.M.).
(6) Liege, 1849, 8vo (B.M.) (a French translation).
CRESACRE MORE'S LIFE.
(1) Paris? 1626, 4to (B.M. ). (? London).
(2) London, 1642, 4to.
(3) London, 1726, 8vo (B.M.).
(4) Leipzig, 1741, 8vo (Oellinger). A German translation.
(5) Edited by Joseph Hunter, London, 1828, 8vo (B.M.).
J. Hoddesdon's History of the Life and Death of More,
London, 1652, 8vo (B.M.). Another Edition, 1662 i2mo
(Oellinger).
189
INDEX.
Aiington, Alice, More's step-
daughter : 113, 119, 122.
Anthony's, St., free school : 5, n.
Audley, Lord : 69.
Bishops at Coronation of Anne
Boleyn : 57.
Boleyn Anne : 32, 56, 57, 75.
Books taken from More in the
Tower: 83.
Bucklersbury : 7.
Cambray : 37, n.
Campeggio, Cardinal : 34, n.
Charles V on the death of More :
102.
Chaucer quoted : 143.
Colte, Master John, More's father-
in-law : 6, .
Cranmer, Thomas: 55, 109.
Cromwell, Thomas : 55, 70.
Cromwell, Sir Richard: 72.
Dancy, Elizabeth, daughter of
More: 175, 177.
Divorce of Henry VIII : 33, 56.
Fisher, Bishop: 59, 107, 114, 128.
Fitz James, Chief Justice: 94.
Fox, Bishop : 8.
Furnivall's Inn : 6.
Grocyn, Dr. William: 6.
Henry VIII : 21, 33 ; change of
policy towards More : 59.
Heron, Giles, More's son-in-law :
42 ; Cicely Heron, 175.
Immaculate Conception : 137.
Jury, trial by : 45.
Katherine, Queen : 32.
Kent, Maid of (Elizabeth Barton),
Nun of Canterbury : 59, nr,
n.
Kingston, Sir William: 95.
La timer, Bishop : 107.
Laws, obligation of : 135, seq.
Linacre, Thomas : n.
Lincoln's Inn : 6, 7.
Longland, Bishop : 32, n.
Marney, Lord : 19.
169045
More, Sir Thomas: Education,
5; M.P., 7; Under Sheriff,
; Counsel for Pope, 10 ;
peaker, 12; estimate of
Henry's favour, 22 ; modesty,
23 ; ambassador, 24 ; love
of peace, 25 ; piety, 27 ;
exhortation to his family, 27,
seq. ; the King's divorce, 33 ;
Lord Chancellor, 39 ; equity,
42 ; respect to his father, 43 ;
the Judges, 44; clergy's
testimonal refused, 46 ;
resigns Chancellorship, 51 ;
comparative poverty, 52 ;
coronation of Anne Boleyn,
57; refuses presents, 61,
seq. ; accused of misprision of
treason, 64 ; summoned to
take the oath, 71 ; sent to
the Tower, 72 ; pity for
Queen Anne, 75 ; property
confiscated, 77 ; verses of,
79 ; indicted for treason,
84; his wife (Alice Middle-
ton), 54, 81 ; his infirmities,
50, 118 ; trial of, 85, seq. ;
speech in arrest of judgment,
91 ; farewells, 96, 98 ; execu-
tion : 101 ; epitaph, 179.
More, Sir John: 43, n; fined by
Henry VII, 8.
Morton, Cardinal : 5.
New Inn ; 6, n.
Norfolk, Duke of : 39, 50, 70.
Oxford, 6, n.
Parnell charges More with ac-
cepting bribes: 61.
Patenson, Henry, More's fool:
144.
Piepowder, Court of : 130, n.
Pope, authority of : 67.
Pope, Sir Thomas : 99.
Reynolds, Richard: 60, 78.
Rich, Richard (afterwards Lord),
perjury of : 83, seq.
Roper, William : 3, n. ; conversa-
tions with More : 22, 25, 35,
64, 68.
Roper, Margaret, daughter of
More: 29, 48; conversa-
tions, 70, 74, 78 ; farewell to
More, 96 ; last letter to, 98,
118.
Sion : 8, n.
Steelyard or Stilliard, Merchants
of : 9, n.
Stokesley, Bishop : 38 ; enemy of
Wolsey, 39.
Supremacy, Oath of, altered
illegally: 76; reasons for
refusing, 106, 120.
Sweating sickness : 29, .
Tunstall, Bishop of Durham : 33,
37, 46, n.
Tyler, Master: 7.
Voysey, Bishop: 46.
Whitforde, Richard: 8.
Wiltshire, Lord : 61, n.
Wolsey, Cardinal : 9, 18, 31, 124.
Wood, John a : 73.
192
v*
r
"ill! P."
2322
The life of Sir Thomas .R625
More
TVNews
OpenLibrary